


Walking After You

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Living In Wakanda [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Memory Related, Multi, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Red Room Mentions, Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7866826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the Sokovian Accords, the Avengers scramble to find a safe haven. That gets complicated when Nick Fury arrives, announcing that he found Peggy Carter. <i>The real Peggy Carter.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mynuet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mynuet/gifts).



> This is born of a text conversation with [mynuet](http://mynuet.tumblr.com) regarding the possibility of Peggy getting a version of the serum at some point in her colorful history. Civil War compliant (no, really!) because I was actually very pleased with characterizations in it, even if some of the plotting made me go O_o at times.
> 
> I do reference things from season 3 of Agents of SHIELD as well as season 2 of Agent Carter, but I think it would still make sense if you haven't seen that. Part of chapter 1 inspired by [this photo,](http://eustaciavye28.tumblr.com/post/144705858513/azephirin-astolat-sevensneakyfoxes) because of course that's how they should be.

"I was surprised you let us walk away," Steve said as Natasha slid into a seat beside him. He shouldn't have been surprised that she was able to track him down in Kiev, knowing how resourceful she was.

"I told him I would help him find you, not arrest you or kill you." Her tone was matter of fact, and Steve took in the dyed black hair, nondescript clothing and careful way she kept her eyes looking around at all lines of sight.

"You're in trouble for that," Steve guessed. His own disguise was nondescript clothing and a ball cap; as much as he kept thinking it wouldn't work, no one ever seemed to see him for who he was outside of the suit. He was sure that facial recognition software would find him sooner or later, but it at least changed the shadows across his chiseled features. He would probably have to dye his hair or get contacts, which Natasha would find hilarious; she had been after him for years to learn a little spycraft.

Her smile was a little bitter around the edges. "Looks like we get to stay together after all."

Steve sighed and reached out touch her hand. It was a park bench where she had asked him to meet her, open and public in a way he hadn't expected from her. Then again, likely no one else was, either. She knew how to hide in plain sight.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, meaning it. "I know how much it meant to you to be an Avenger."

Natasha turned to him, sadness in her eyes. "It meant a lot to all of us. We all handled this badly, and there were too many hidden agendas."

"You still believe in the Accords."

"I believe in the theory," she said quietly. "That we're better together than apart. That Tony might have been able to get them altered and adjusted. He kept saying that something worse was coming down the pipeline."

"You believe that?"

"Don't you?"

He sighed again and looked down. "I don't know. I don't... They don't know what it's like, the constant comparisons I keep making. It feels like the same mistakes all over again. They kept Wanda locked up at the compound. A gilded cage, maybe, but a cage nonetheless."

"There's a lot of fear out there. Inhumans, powers, aliens..." Natasha gave his hand a squeeze. "I know you lost a lot of people very important to you."

"And because of me, you have, too."

"Steve, you don't own the pity party," Natasha told him firmly. "We're all adults here, we knew exactly what we were getting into."

"Did you, really?"

"Could you really have done anything else? Steve 'I care about choices and damn the consequences' Rogers? Or Tony 'I have to make up for everything ever done in my name no matter the cost' Stark?" Natasha shook her head. "I knew there was no contest for you. You had to save him. You would do anything for family."

The words sank in, and he looked at her with a stricken expression. "Oh, Natasha..."

"Do you think I would ignore you just because I disagreed with you in some aspects?" She shook her head. "But sometimes you have to be part of the system in order to subvert it."

He stared at her. "We're your family, too."

"We're not so different in that respect, you and I."

"What do you have planned?"

"I suppose I always knew you would pull on that thread when I gave you that file on Bucky. I suppose I wanted to give you the choice. So you could have an out." Natasha paused. "And I would have an out, too. I knew a lot more than I let on. And sometimes I would pretend to, if only because then I could get more information that way." She looked out over the park. "I'm a spy, Steve. First and foremost, that's what I was trained to do. Always have an exit. Always have a contingency plan." She blew out a breath. "We're all on the run. It's going to get worse before it gets better, you know that."

Steve looked at her warily. "Define worse."

"What do you know about the consequences of breaking the Accords?"

"Arrest," he answered. "They're going to make examples of us."

"Right now, it's imprisonment without trial."

The expression on Steve's face was downright murderous. _"What?"_

"General Ross' idea," Natasha continued in neutral tones. "Don't draw attention, Steve. Walk, don't run. How many times do I have to remind you?"

"I can't imagine over a hundred countries are comfortable with withholding due process."

Natasha gave his hand a tight squeeze. "The thing is, laws are different in different countries. You can't apply the same standard. And not all of them signed the Accords."

"Which is why we're here."

"Someone at some point will think of looking here. There are other places that are far less obvious to hide in, once we get them out."

Steve froze. "What?"

She smiled at him, and he could see the edge in it, the shadow of the fearsome Black Widow in that tilt of her lips. "You're right. They took my family from me. Oversight is one thing, and having a discussion is admirable. But to lock away humans in a powered prison is not. Laura and the kids are gone underground, and they were out as soon as Clint decided to get back in because of all of this nonsense."

He blinked at her. "He couldn't have known he was going to be imprisoned."

"We were prepared for the possibility," Natasha corrected with a slight shake of her head. "But the assumption was a federal prison in the EU. Those are much easier to tolerate or break out of, if it comes to that. But not the Raft."

"Do I want to know how you know that?" At her pointed look, he smiled in spite of himself. "I know, I know, dumb question. So what do we do?"

"Thank you for trusting me, even though I didn't agree with you."

"I'm sorry it came to this." Steve sighed. "What now?"

"Time to hijack a transport ship. The one we need leaves in an hour."

***

It probably shouldn't have surprised Steve how easily Natasha was able to hack into the Raft security systems, or how he was able to drop all of the guards on his own. He missed his shield, the comforting weight of it on his back or on his arm. _You don't deserve that shield. My father made it!_ Tony had shouted at him in Siberia. It was the cry of a hurt child, not a grown man, and Steve realized just how much Tony had been broken on the inside. He had never really seen it, maybe because he hadn't wanted to. His memories of Howard had been good ones, and it easier to slot Tony into them. It was easier to pigeonhole Tony, to take him at face value, to think it was all about ego. Not that it wasn't there, but it covered up years of hurt and trauma of his own, and Steve realized in that moment that no one won in Siberia at all.

He could only hope that Tony wasn't going to catch hell for what he was doing now.

Steve smiled at Sam as he stepped out of the dark and into the containment area. "Hey."

"Took your damn time," Sam mock groused as Steve approached.

Their hug was tight once the cell was unlocked, and Steve hoped that Sam could feel his apology for the internment. "I had to find a ride that would fit us all."

"Well, okay, then. You're forgiven, I guess."

It was short work to disengage the other locks and Wanda's collar with the force fields, bars and electric fields disengaged. Wanda looked so lost, Steve couldn't help but put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry I got us into this mess. I don't know how I'll fix it, but I will."

She lifted her eyes to him. It wasn't hope in her eyes, not exactly, but more than mere acceptance for her fate. "I knew of this possibility when I left New York," she said heavily. "I've been in cages like this before."

Tightening his grip around her shoulders, Steve gave her a determined expression. "We have an exit plan. I hope you never have to be in one ever again."

Her lips quirked in amusement. "We shall see, won't we? Even I cannot see the future."

Steve wanted to smile and laugh and cry and despair. "Yeah, that's a flower that doesn't grow in your garden."

The improbable phrasing made her laugh out loud and nod, falling into step when he started leading them out of the Raft. Steve apologized to Clint and Scott as well; Clint simply waved him off and reiterated that he had been prepared. Scott shrugged. "Not my first time doing time, you know? Though I was hoping to have a better record this time around. Hank Pym is going to be _pissed_ that they got the suit, though."

Natasha came out of the storage area loaded down with several duffle bags. "Not anymore," she announced with a broad grin. "And whoever thought they could do research on it has a very nasty computer virus now. Any online copies are rapidly disappearing as we speak."

"Oh, wow," Scott said, staring at her. "This is... Sorry about hitting you back there."

"I told you not to stress about it," Natasha replied, deadpan.

"I guess you're used to fights?" he asked awkwardly. "I mean, you're on the news a lot."

"Guess what? Now you are, too," she shot back, unimpressed.

He blinked, stricken. "Cassie."

"I got a message to your family," Natasha said, handing him the duffle bag with the Ant-Man suit and his other belongings. "They know it's a political maneuver, not of your own doing, and that they shouldn't believe whatever press is coming out now."

"Hopefully, they'll believe it," Scott said glumly. "I'm gonna miss my peanut."

"Let's fix the political mess," Natasha told him, moving to return the others' gear. "Then we can straighten out visitation and extradition treaties."

"You think that it can be fixed?" Sam asked dubiously.

"I think Secretary Ross is going to be very embarrassed, and will do just about anything to keep word from getting out about this," she replied with a smirk.

"Good," Wanda said, lip curling in distaste as she took her own duffle bag. "I know his kind, and I'm not sorry for whatever discomfort he gets."

"I think that makes all of us," Sam remarked. "Now, let's blow this popsicle stand."

***

If the others were surprised that Bucky had piloted the plane while Natasha had gone hunting down their gear, no one said a word. The plane touched down on a deserted airstrip, and then it was an army surplus jeep over a bumpy back road until they reached a massive cargo ship that was bound for Mombasa. Tense, exhausted, running on fumes, they huddled in the corner of a storage area. Natasha hadn't been able to make any better arrangements, but exhaustion and hunger tended to make even metal decking and an old parachute comfortable as a bed. At first they all chose different corners of the storage area, but the heating was barely adequate. By unspoken agreement, after Natasha and Clint started snuggling close for warmth, Steve and Bucky did. Then Sam came in on Steve's other side, and Wanda hesitantly approached. Scott dispensed with his awkward stuttering and merely shrank down inside of his suit before resting on Steve's chest. Natasha and Clint scooted in closer, and Wanda used a tendril of her scarlet magic to tuck the parachute around all of them to conserve warmth.

This was hardly the homecoming that Steve had wanted for Bucky, but he didn't seem to mind it at all. His smile was soft and more than a little broken, as if he couldn't believe Steve and his friends would go to all of this trouble for him.

 _I'm with you 'till the end of the line,_ Steve thought, pulling Bucky in tightly.

Whatever the future held, it always worked better when they were together.

In the morning, most of them were up on deck when Mombasa came into view. Steve caught sight of Wanda, expression drawn and sad when she saw the port. Natasha reached her first, so he hung back for a moment, not sure if Wanda would want him around. It was his fault she had been locked up, even if she had chosen to fight alongside him.

"I miss him," Wanda told Natasha softly. "I wonder if he hates me for what I've done."

Natasha stood very close to Wanda, but didn't quite reach out to touch her. "He cares about you," she said quietly. "It could have been something more if there had been time for it."

"That's the thing," Wanda said, a sad and bitter smile on her face. "I suppose I thought there would be more time. That I could take things slow, see what I really felt, see what he felt. I think... I know he didn't fear me, ever. But I think it could have been more."

"It was," Natasha murmured, nodding. "And still could be, if things ever work out legally."

Wanda sighed. "I miss him," she repeated.

"That part doesn't go away," Natasha told her quietly. "But don't ignore it. Don't push the emotions away so you don't feel it. It might hurt, but it keeps you human. It reminds you why we do what we do."

"Because you feel the same way," Wanda observed.

Her smile was a mirror of Wanda's sad one. "We don't get normal lives in this line of work, and we have to try for happiness wherever we can." She reached out and touched the back of Wanda's hand in a comforting manner. "He cares, know that. It's real, and I don't think he hates you. I think he'd be more disappointed that he wasn't enough for you."

"He could have been. Maybe. I'd like to think so," she murmured, shy and hesitant as she ducked her head to look at the ocean.

"You can find out someday. When all this blows over."

"Do you think it will?"

"I hope so," Natasha said. By her tone, Steve could tell that she didn't think it was very likely, and Wanda could hear that, too. She looked up and beckoned Steve to come closer. "Hey. Ready to join our pity party?"

Steve shot them a rueful look. "I'm kind of the cause of the pity party, don't you think?"

"There were a lot of causes," Natasha told him firmly, reaching out and pulling him closer. "You were just one of them. If it hadn't been you, it could have been something else."

"Will we be okay, wherever we're going?"

"We'll be refugees, but there are no extradition treaties and they never got a chance to sign the Sokovia Accords. And right now, there are no plans to because of how things went down in Bucharest and Germany." Her mirthless smile was sad at the edges. "The Accords can't guarantee cooperation, containment or lessening the potential damage from powered threats."

"Were they even meant to? We weren't given time to read it or even discuss it," Steve said, resentment in his voice. "Ross just threw that down on the table and expected us to roll over and sign it, taking his word for what was in it."

"The theory was that there would be oversight. That a semblance of control would prevent any further mistakes on our part."

"On my part," Wanda murmured glumly.

 _"Our_ part," Natasha said. "Lagos was an excuse. They were waiting to pounce."

"So now we hide?" Wanda asked.

"Now we hide," Natasha confirmed.

Steve's mouth twisted as if he had bitten into something sour. "Not fond of that plan, but I guess it's the best we can do right now."

"Just put one foot after the other and keep walking," Natasha told him. "Remember? You have to walk when you're on the run. _Walk._ Take it slow and steady, don't stick out in places where they'll think to find you."

By the time they all arrived in Wakanda, Steve was determined to do just that.

***  
***


	2. Misdirection and Discovery

The only thing that could draw Steve's attention from Wakanda was an encrypted message from Nick Fury: _Concerning Peggy Carter, must meet in person._ Natasha didn't know what it was about, which was possibly one of the most concerning things about it. Of course Nick Fury would stay out of the conflict he had with Tony Stark; Fury was too busy tracking down Hydra locations to help SHIELD. He wouldn't be involved past the intelligence part, and would leave the fighting down to the Advanced Threat Containment Unit and SHIELD. Natasha had told him there was a storm brewing in the United States and many countries around the world, and the Sokovia Accords had been just one piece in a much larger puzzle. "The United States created the ATCU and were keeping powered people in stasis," she told him. "What you didn't know is that other countries often simply hunted them. There's agitation for creating a separate country for them, for keeping them contained somewhere else."

"Where else?" Steve had asked, horrified.

"Siberia," she said quietly.

"That's not something Ross would ever go for," Steve grumbled.

"There was a committee decision. I don't think it was ever formally signed, but you know how those things go," she said, a wry twist to her lips. "It's only a matter of time before someone decides it's a good idea."

"So what would Fury want?" Steve asked her, thinking she would be the most likely candidate to know how Fury thought.

But Natasha, as much as she respected the agent and knew how to read his tones, didn't know what he meant by that. Peggy was dead, and she had been deteriorating for years before that.

Using Peggy's name had to be some kind of code, something about SHIELD or the past, but Steve couldn't figure out what it could be. He brought it to T'Challa's attention, as he would have to either meet Nick Fury on Wakandan soil or do his best to sneak out of a country where he stuck out like a sore thumb no matter how much he tried to keep his head down. 

"I will bring him here," T'Challa assured Steve, a grim expression on his face. "I cannot guarantee your safety once you leave my country."

"I'm sorry for all the trouble we've caused, truly I am," Steve said heavily, the same drawn expression on his face. "I didn't want this, please believe me."

"I do," T'Challa assured him. "You fight for what you believe is justice and mercy."

Steve grimaced at the phrasing. "Sounds like I don't always make the right decision."

"Does any of us?"

He was still pondering those words when he met with Nick Fury in the Royal Museum in the heart of Wakanda. "Didn't take you for the sightseeing type," Nick said baldly when Steve showed up. There were some people watching them, but it was the same kind of uncomfortable stare that Steve was used to seeing. It wasn't because he was the reason why their former beloved king had died. No one really knew the details on that in Wakanda. No, it was because of how pale he was and how much he stuck out. Sam told him that there had been whispers in the market of the refugees and how they would steal jobs from proper hardworking Wakandans. It had made Steve want to laugh and cry; times didn't change, and the whispers were always the same, even on an entirely different continent.

"Sometimes there are sights to see," Steve replied tightly. He thought of how he had told Natasha that a gilded cage was still a cage. Wakanda was beautiful and far larger than the Avengers complex in upstate New York, but he still chafed within its borders.

"Here's a sight you'll want to see," Nick said, handing over a file folder.

There were Cyrillic letters stamped in red across the front of it, and something in Steve's gut turned over. He swallowed down the bile and acid, and tried to tell himself that Bucky was just in hibernation. There was nothing in this file that could hurt him.

He was wrong.

Staring up at him was a photograph of Peggy Carter, eyes closed as if in sleep, youthful as she was at the start of SHIELD. She was encased in a cylindrical tube similar to the one that Hydra agents had kept Bucky in when he wasn't doing missions as the Winter Soldier.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice a broken rasp.

Nick Fury nodded toward a bench in the middle of the gallery, uncharacteristically kind. "One of the cells in Austria had been a site for super solder serum research. They were separate from a lot of the other cells, purely science." A chill rolled down Steve's spine at that; he had been a product of a science lab, as had been Wanda.

"What is this?" Steve repeated, staring at the unfamiliar lettering on a document that made it look as though Peggy had been frozen like the Winter Soldier. Or that she had _been_ a Winter Soldier type of operative, which made _no sense,_ and even the thought of it made his chest hurt as it hadn't since his asthma attacks nearly killed him.

"Peggy Carter," Nick said, a fond note in his voice. "But apparently, the real one."

Steve looked up at Nick sharply, jaw tightening. "Explain."

"The Peggy I knew was older than your Peggy," Nick began. "My SO in the admin track, always a believer in hard work and doing the right thing. She didn't talk about you, not if she could help it, you know."

He didn't want to hear this, but Nick held up a hand. "We all respected that, since it had nothing to do with the job at hand. But maybe, just maybe, that's how Hydra got into SHIELD in the first place. Because the Peggy I knew wasn't the one that you knew."

"What are you saying?"

"I found Peggy, Cap. Apparently, she's been on ice for decades. Almost since the foundation of SHIELD, as a matter of fact. The woman I knew, the one in history books, the one that we all had the funeral for? She was a clone. She believed she was Peggy, she believed in what she said, but her brain was probably chock full of triggers and code words and all sorts of things I don't want to even contemplate."

Blood running cold, Steve stared at Nick. "Where is she?"

"I'm taking care of it. But I thought we needed to meet first. When I left to come here, she wasn't awake yet, and there was barely a pulse. I don't know what we're going to get when the defrosting is complete, just as I wasn't sure what I would get when you woke up. You know the real Peggy Carter. What would make her comfortable when she wakes up?"

"The truth," Steve said, looking at him grimly. "No matter how painful."

"Maybe you should come with me, anyway," Nick said with a sigh. "We can probably get you in under the radar."

He was sure he didn't have enough pull with T'Challa to request Peggy Carter being brought to Wakanda, but Helen Cho and the Cradle were there at the moment. "Maybe," he said quietly, licking his lips. "There are people here that could help."

"You think you got that much pull?"

"I think I can ask. And the worst that happens is that I get told no."

"Someone's gonna tell Captain America no?"

"I'm not Captain America anymore, Nick. I'm just a guy without a home. I'm a refugee."

"Is that strange for you?" Nick asked, frowning at him.

"No," Steve said, finding he meant every word. "I've never belonged. I just wished I did."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence for a time, then Nick looked at his watch. "When can you get a hold of the King?"

"In a rush?" Steve asked blandly.

"If we're going to bring her here before she regains consciousness, yeah."

"I know a way to get his attention quickly," Steve said, standing. "Come with me."

From the Royal Museum, the two went straight across the square to the ultramodern medical college. If Nick was surprised, he hid it well. They went straight to the back elevator, bypassing the front entrance. Steve had a special key to open the service elevator doors, and a light went on over the panel. At Nick's raised eyebrow, Steve shot him an unamused smile. "I'm always monitored when I go to this department."

He didn't ask, but Steve knew that Nick was wondering exactly what business Steve would have in the medical college. Thanks to the serum repairing his genetic code, he was at the pinnacle of human health and physical ability. His immune system was robust, so it would take a massive infection or a particularly virulent virus to make him feel sick. He had guarded his blood during SHIELD testing as best as he could, as he hadn't wanted to subject anyone else to the kind of excruciating pain he had gone through. Steve remembered the sharp pains in his chest, the feeling that he couldn't breathe, the burn of the vita rays, and the sensation of dying. Peggy hadn't wanted the test to continue, concerned for his safety. But he had believed in what they were doing, and believed that it was worth potentially giving his life up for.

The rest was history. Steve hadn't died, and his body was transformed.

Nick was impressed by the sight of the lab that held Bucky Barnes. The containment area was clean, vital signs continually monitored, and staff members available around the clock if needed for anything. Steve greeted them by name, carefully mimicking the Wakandan greeting. The technician smiled and nodded. "Better intonation today, Mr. Rogers."

Steve chuckled. "I'm practicing."

"I can tell. Shall I summon His Majesty?"

"If he's free," Steve said politely. "There are developments that I'm sure he'll want to be aware of, especially since they're not official ones."

The technician straightened her spine a bit and flashed him a brilliant smile. "So exciting."

"Not when you're in the middle of the storm," he told her ruefully.

Nick sat down beside Steve near Bucky's cryogenic tube. "Polite to a fault," he observed. "Is this where you spend all your free time?" he asked in arch tones.

"Not all of it. I'm taking a basic history course at the college, studying the language and culture."

"And the others?"

"What others?" Steve asked innocently.

"You're a terrible liar," Nick snorted. "And I know they put a collar on Miss Maximoff, so she didn't magic them all out of there. Plus, it wasn't put out widely, but a tall blond man in a black tac suit kicking the crap out of the security agents evicted all of the Raft's residents."

"Huh. Did he, now? I should shake his hand."

"Still a terrible liar," Nick said, lips curling in a sardonic grin. "I'm guessing they're all here with you, since you're all international fugitives."

"Only one hundred and seventeen countries think so. Wakanda happens to be one of the ones that doesn't," Steve replied with a shrug, looking at Bucky's serene expression.

"And why would anyone think to find you here if the Winter Soldier was the one that killed the former King?" Nick asked. "Smacks of Natasha's doing."

"Does it? Maybe I've gotten better at this sort of thing."

"Not on your life. You're too damn honest for that."

Steve sighed. "Yeah. There's that."

They sat in silence for a moment before Nick looked from Bucky to Steve. "Did Natasha tell you anything of her past or what it was like for her when she was first brought in?"

"No. And I didn't ask, and didn't read the files that were online."

"Not a one?"

"If I needed to know something, I would ask her. I trust her, and I trust that she'll tell me if I need to know something."

"She had triggers in her head, too," Nick said flatly. "They're out now, as far as we can tell. So it can be done." He shrugged at Steve's surprise. "It wasn't pretty, and it looked pretty damn painful on her end. But if motivated properly and with enough support, it can be done."

"He didn't think it could be."

"You really think Hydra would want anyone believing that the conditioning could be undone?" Nick asked. He gave a huff of unamused and bitter laughter. "Oh, no, it can be done. If you have the right people to help you through it."

"And you have them."

Now he smiled, wide and pleased. "I might've hung onto a few good people when SHIELD fell and I stopped being the guy in charge."

"So we might have quite a bit to tell the King," Steve mused.

"Probably best not to overwhelm him," Nick advised.

"I don't think that will be a problem," an accented voice announced behind them. Steve turned with a smile as Nick startled.

T'Challa stood a few feet behind them, dressed in casual clothes in dark colors. He generally didn't stand on formalities or formal dress unless it was an appearance in official capacity. The medical college and university system were his favorite places to be; brilliant in his own right, he enjoyed doing research for its own sake when not bogged down with matters of state.

He grinned at the two men seated in front of Bucky, then gestured widely toward a table in the alcove close to the large glass windows. "I was in one of the labs upstairs," he said with a slight curl to his lips. "Now, let us discuss your news and how it will affect my country," he suggested in genial tones.

Standing, Nick nodded. "It would never do to offend a King."

***

Peggy had been sedated the entire time her body was being thawed out and then transported to Wakanda. Steve wanted to be angry about that, that her body was being treated without her consent or knowledge, but he also knew that an angry Peggy would punch her way through a dozen people to break herself out of wherever she was, even if it seemed like an impossible task. It would be a shock for her to see the modern world, just as it had been a shock for him to race into Times Square. He would spare her that if he could; as modern as the medical college was, it was still recognizably a research hospital.

Steve sat beside her once she was set up in an observation room. There were no pathogens or odd chemical markers in her blood that any of Nick's or T'Challa's doctors and researchers could find, and all of the notes in the Hydra cell had indicated that she hadn't been altered in any way. She was on ice because they knew she would never cooperate with their studies, and her exposure to Zero Matter meant that they wanted to study the properties of her tissue and blood. During the initial freezing process, something had gone wrong – the notes were fuzzy about the details, but her heart had stopped and they had to administer adrenaline to get it going again – but then she was put into the same state as the Winter Soldier. At no time had she ever been woken. None of the scientists could ever identify or isolate any Zero Matter in her blood or tissues, even though they did note some odd proteins and cells. Those oddities remained consistent throughout all of their tests, and it had been assumed by Hydra scientists that they were artifactual to the freezing process, as some of the proteins were similar to those found in the Winter Soldier.

As soon as Peggy made a soft noise, indicating that the sedatives were wearing off, Steve took hold of her hand. The lines of her body were still strong, and the bright red nail polish that had been her signature was still on her nails, not even chipped. It seemed like such an insignificant detail, but one he kept fixing on.

When her eyes opened and her body jerked, Steve didn't try to keep his grip on her hand. There was a telltale flare of panic in her eyes, even though she was silent, a tightening in her jaw and the tension that indicated she was ready to fight. Because of course Peggy would have fought off whoever attacked her, and she never would have cooperated with Hydra.

"Peggy," he said gently. "It's okay now. Whatever happened before, I promise it's okay now."

"You—" Her gaze sharpened. "This is another trick, isn't it?" she asked, jaw tight and anger in her tone. "One dead friend resurrected wasn't enough, but now this? This is too much."

The pain in her voice cut straight to his gut. "I'm Steve. The real Steve," he said heavily. He kept his hands up and in her sight, letting her scramble away from him. "The serum kept me from fully dying when I crashed into the ice. SHIELD agents found me, thawed me out." He never looked away from her. "It's been a long time, Peggy, and a lot's happened."

"Oh?" she asked, somehow looking strong even with nothing more than a hospital gown and her open hands at the ready. Steve ached for her, missing and loving and wanting all at the same time. "And I suppose you're going to tell me."

"And you probably won't believe me," Steve said, nodding. "But I will answer anything you want, as best as I can."

"Start with where we are," she demanded.

"The Medical College of Wakanda. Nick Fury found you in some Hydra cell in Europe and brought you here. I insisted on being here to tell you everything. His idea of introducing you to the present would be to create something and lie, and I know that won't work with you either."

Peggy blinked at him, and he could see her mind racing. "Nick Fury?" she said, shaking her head. "I don't know the name."

"It's 2016," Steve blurted. "A lot's happened."

Distrust and curiosity were in her expression, but she didn't move. He explained about how he had been found and defrosted, the disorientation of running out into Times Square and seeing what the modern world looked like. Then the Chitauri had come at Loki's behest, and he had tried going on the road to see what America looked like in the modern day. No one recognized the tall blond man with a motorcycle and leather jacket, and he felt so out of place. He made his way back to SHIELD and was based in Washington, DC, doing missions and trying to figure out what he should do. Something in her face softened as he spoke, and he could tell that she believed he was telling her the truth.

"There was a version of you," Steve said, voice sad. "She had dementia. Sometimes she remembered me, and she was my touchstone, just as you were in the war." His eyes slipped down and he could feel the churn in his gut. "They tell me she was a fake. A clone that Hydra made, just so they could worm their way into SHIELD." He looked up at her, contrite and in pain. "I'm sorry, Peggy. I'm sorry I didn't know that she wasn't you."

"Sounds like she thought she was," Peggy said, acceptance in her voice. "And you wouldn't have expected something like that."

"When would it have happened? How could they get to you?" Steve asked, shaking his head. "You're too good for that."

Peggy laughed a little, sad and bitter. "After some kind of test Howard did, actually." She moved to sit on the hospital bed. "Any of my history that you're aware of?"

"That they had in that lab? Some."

"I was investigating something in California called Zero Matter. A destructive substance from another dimension that could wipe out lives. It turned a friend insubstantial, actually. I thought he was dead."

"A friend?" Steve asked, blinking.

She shot him such an arch look that his chest ached. God, he had missed her. "Steve," she admonished, a playful edge to her stern tone.

"Anyway, I was fine afterward, but Howard said the entire escapade worried him. And then Chief Thompson, who was my superior at the time, was murdered before he could return to New York. I think that sent Howard off the deep end, really. The man was beside himself. Not that he liked Thompson, but if someone was bound and determined to destroy the SSR, killing Chief Thompson was a surefire way to do it."

"Did they ever find who did it?"

"No, but I had my suspicions, given that certain possessions he had at the time were missing, including files that had been doctored. They likely hadn't realized that he had given me a specific membership pin that the Council of Nine members had." She held up a hand when Steve clearly would have asked about it. "The pin itself is something like a key, and the Council was doctoring elections, making history for their own ends."

"So what did Howard do?"

"Some tests to see what effect Zero Matter would have on me. The actress Whitney Frost had been utterly infected with it, and it drove her insane. But I hadn't had the same exposure as she did. Howard did a number of blood tests and such, but ultimately, nothing happened."

Steve had an awful suspicion growing, and his gut churned. "And then?"

"It wasn't long after returning to New York that I was attacked," Peggy told him in her usual brisk tones. "It was a shadow at first, and I got Angie out of the way, at least." At Steve's blank look, she explained quickly. "My friend Angie. We'd been out to dinner so I could tell her about some of the trip to California. She got away, at least, and I shot at the man." She frowned, biting her lip. "It had looked like Sergeant Barnes, Steve. Which is impossible, but if Hydra had captured me, then perhaps they engineered someone to look like—"

"Not impossible," Steve said heavily. "Let me show you," he told her when she appeared confused by that. He found a robe and led her down the hall toward the stasis chamber where Bucky was in his cryogenic sleep. He pointedly ignored Nick Fury coming out of the observation room where he had undoubtedly been listening to the entire conversation, and led Peggy into the stasis chamber.

Her gasp of shock made Steve feel awful. "They did that to you, Peggy. That's where you've been since 1947. And now it's 2016."

"Oh." Peggy's voice was faint for a moment, then she turned to look at Steve. "I suppose I hadn't really thought about the year. Are you trying to tell me that we're all nearly a hundred years old?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," he sheepishly admitted.

She sighed and shook her head. "Let me get a cup of tea, and we're going to go over this all again in better detail."

That was Peggy, all right.

***  
***


	3. Becoming Again

Steve stayed with Peggy as she read about the husband she hadn't married, the children she hadn't had, the niece she was supposed to have been close to. She read the articles about her funeral, the reports within the intelligence agencies and the glowing praise for her leadership throughout the years. Steve didn't know how to explain the awkward almost-thing he had with Sharon, if only because she reminded him of Peggy. That was probably a poor foundation for a relationship, but Sharon had been a comforting presence for a reason.

Meeting with Nick Fury also was visibly disconcerting, but Peggy sat through it anyway and waved off the offer of a counselor of some kind. "I've weathered quite a few disasters in my time, Mr. Fury. I do believe I can survive this one as well."

He had smiled fondly at Peggy. "At least they didn't change your sparkling personality."

"Isn't that one of the best parts of me?" she threw back with an answering smile.

"For those of us that believe in you, yes. For Hydra and those kinds of people? Not at all," he said. The fondness in his tone was one that Steve had only previously heard with Natasha or Maria Hill.

There was a hitch in Peggy's breath when she went through the file on Bucky, easily translating the Russian. She remained silent until she had gone through it all, then heaved a sigh. "And it's been redacted, but there's still a considerable amount here."

"Natasha assured me that was the whole file."

"The whole file she got, perhaps, but it's hardly the whole of his history, as bad as this is. There are references to other files, to a notebook of some sort..." She tilted her head to the side as Steve blinked and sucked in a breath. "Should I not speak of it, Steve?" she asked gently, putting her hand on his arm.

"Knowing what I did about what was done is bad enough. Knowing that there could be more?" Steve shook his head and willed himself to be still and calm. Not that it ever worked, but he was willing to try. His thoughts were a jumble, and he couldn't seem to keep himself from picturing Bucky in that cryogenics chamber. He was calm now, but he had been used as nothing more than a tool, wiped clean and made to do whatever his handler wished.

Just thinking about it made him feel sick.

"Perhaps I should speak with Natasha?" she asked him, squeezing his arm. "Your friend looks as though he'd like to speak with you," she added, nodding toward the door.

Sam was there, and Steve found himself nodding even though he didn't want to leave Peggy's side. He'd lost everyone over and over again, but miraculously enough, she was back. Some part of him never wanted her out of his sight. He realized it was irrational and stupid, that T'Challa would never let anything happen in his kingdom.

"Nothing important," Sam offered, shrugging. "Just wanted to see if I could help with anything."

"Get Steve out of here," Peggy said briskly. "He hovers like a mother hen, and I'm hardly bed bound. I am quite capable of handling the horrors that Hydra had to dispense."

He flashed Peggy a bright grin and nodded. "Seems you've got a type," he whispered to Steve as he approached.

"Those with excellent hearing?" Peggy asked from the desk, reaching for another folder. Her smile told Sam and Steve that she didn't mind the statement at all.

"Brains," Sam replied simply. "Maybe 'cause you haven't got 'em," he teased, shaking his head at Steve. "C'mon, man. The lady is obviously done with you right now. You can come with me downtown. I'm meeting Wanda for lunch."

"Oh, I like you," Peggy declared in Sam's direction. "I can see you've certainly cared for Steve very well. Thank you."

"Someone has to," Sam replied with the same grin on his face. He gave Steve a playful nudge on the arm. "This fool certainly dives right in without thinking. Did he always jump out of planes without parachutes or keep fighting when he's all busted up and should be falling over?"

Peggy laughed. "He most certainly did. In the middle of being fired at, too."

"Some things never change," Sam said to Steve in a mocking admonishing tone. "Don't have Wanda do the same thing, now." He looked over at Peggy. "I'll have a proper sit down with you later, Miss Carter."

"Peggy's just fine, I assure you. Mr. Jarvis always used to call me Miss Carter, and it's just not the same," she told him, a wistful smile on her face.

"Peggy," Sam repeated with a nod. "We'll be back in a bit, talk more. I know this dude can be overwhelming without really meaning to be."

She laughed, expression softening, and then sank back into her chair when they left. She looked through the files in front of her again, sure she was being watched by _someone._ It could have been Nick Fury again, it could have been another of Steve's friends, it could have been the king himself or one of his emissaries. Her fingers ghosted over the script in her own file, the markers in her blood that were assumed to be artifactual to the freezing process. She wasn't stupid, she had a very good idea what Howard might have actually been doing with his tests. It hadn't occurred to her at the time, and he probably thought he had failed in his attempt to put the super soldier serum into her bloodstream. Perhaps that was why he kept up his experiments, until that batch of serum that had been in the trunk of his car the night he was killed.

Her clone had been a Hydra plant, and likely would have encouraged Howard to do such a thing, and would have let others know about it. Or maybe her clone was innocent, and there were plenty of other Hydra informants by that time. Maybe that was why the clone had developed dementia; too many implanted code words, too many memory overlays, too many times her clone might have been erased and tampered with.

It hurt her head to think about it, and there was an ache deep in her chest. She bowed her head over the files, shutting her eyes tight against the tears that wanted to come.

Once upon a time, she had made her peace with grief, with feeling as though she had let down Steve and his memory. She had let her emotions loose, she had tried to move on and build a life without him, even as his ghost followed her.

Now she had to do the same for all of those she had left behind without meaning to.

A gentle knock at the door startled her out of her reverie. A petite redhead stood there, dressed in a tank top, jeans and canvas sneakers. "Hello," Peggy said, tone brisk as if her emotions weren't running rampant. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

"Natasha Romanoff," the redhead replied.

"Ah. The one that procured a great many files. They're redacted, of course."

"I thought Steve would have it translated. I'm not sure if he bothered, though." Natasha came in and sat beside Peggy at the desk, right where Steve had been. "He'd been through a lot, and I didn't want to make it worse."

"You knew more than you told him," Peggy guessed.

Natasha's smile was sad. "It was out there for him to find if he wanted to. I didn't want him to. I didn't want him more hurt than he already was. No one ever gave him time to process anything when they thawed him out of the ice. They treated him like an unstoppable legend, a hero. Not a man." She shrugged and looked back at the file. "That was the first one I received."

"And the rest?"

"Stolen, anyway. It was a mess when SHIELD fell."

Her voice was so tired and sad, and Peggy's heart went out to her. Steve had mentioned Natasha, mostly in passing, but with a fondness that was impossible to miss. "I'm sure a clean slate was needed. Hydra is an infestation that has to be eradicated."

"They've destroyed a lot of things, and continue to," Natasha agreed. "There are too many secrets, even with trying to put things out in the open."

"You're too young to be so... resigned," Peggy commented.

"I was never a child. Not really, not how it counts for most people." There was a raw and aching expression that led Peggy to grasp her hand tightly and squeeze. "I belonged nowhere, so I could be anywhere. I was trained to become anyone I needed to be. But then that means there isn't much to _me._ There's too much for me to make up, no matter how hard I try to balance the scales. Maybe it can never be made right."

"You can be anyone you need to be?" Peggy echoed, a chill down her spine. Her eyes drifted down to Natasha's wrists, but there were no scars there. "Were you handcuffed to the bed?" she asked, voice hushed.

Natasha blinked. "What do you know about the Red Room?"

"There was an operative I met years ago," Peggy said slowly. "She said the same thing. She could be anyone she wanted to be. The training she had in Russia included children's films with subliminal messages. The girls were handcuffed to beds, trained to kill even as they looked far too innocent to do it."

"When I escaped the Red Room, I burned it to the ground. But I have no illusions about it being the only one. I haven't found any others, though."

Peggy sighed. "I suppose I clearly still have a role to play in this era, then." She shot Natasha a rueful smile. "I don't do well with sitting still and peacetime, I'm afraid. It grows quite boring. I find I have a taste for adventure."

Returning her rueful smile, Natasha nodded. "Then it's a good thing that Nick found you. There's a lot going on in the world right now. Plenty of opportunity for adventure."

"And as a recently dead woman, no one would expect me to go looking for it."

Natasha smiled at her, a small but genuine one. "Let's see what we can do."

***

King T'Challa was wary at first of this woman that Hydra had encased in a glass tube; he'd seen what their other frozen citizen was capable of doing. He saw all of the video of her interactions with Steve, Nick, Sam and Natasha; though he had gone through all of the information that had been leaked to the internet, the folders Nick had brought and whatever his own scientists had been able to determine, it was still surprising to see for himself. Most of the old SSR files weren't digitized, so there was no way to get his hands on that, and Director Coulson of the new SHIELD wasn't very obliging about sharing the archived documents. T'Challa could understand that he was chasing down some kind of new threat, though surely there were other junior agents that could be tasked with the job as busy work.

He stood in front of the cryogenic chamber holding Bucky Barnes. The fear in the other man's eyes had been a palpable thing when T'Challa thought back to their fights. He had been fueled by the need for vengeance, and Bucky had been motivated purely by survival. He had been turned into a tool for other people to use, a victim under the hands of cruel and devious people that never saw him as a man. Bucky had been a blunt instrument, nameless and faceless, a ghost in the intelligence community, nothing more than a threat to gain leverage for an organization that should have died decades ago.

Lifting his hand to the glass, T'Challa took in the resigned but peaceful expression on Bucky's face. He chose cryogenic sleep over the risk of harming others, another sign that the man beneath the Hydra trigger words was a good one. Steve Rogers wouldn't have risked his life, reputation and friends for anything less.

"Do you think he knows we're here?" Natasha asked quietly, coming into the room behind him. "Or is it that he sleeps, and eventually will think this is all a dream?"

"I'm surprised you made it past my guards," T'Challa answered instead.

She smiled mirthlessly, and came closer to him. She was still an arm's length away from him, away from the cryogenic tube. "I'm a different kind of ghost around here."

Ah, yes. So she had heard the cutting whispers and rumors in the plaza, that ghosts were coming into the kingdom to take over jobs and undermine their authority. None openly discriminated against his guests, but it was likely a near thing.

"To answer your question," T'Challa replied, turning to face her directly, "this is very much like sleep. The monitoring includes EEG, and brain activity matches sleep."

Her expression softened fractionally. "Good. It would be a different kind of horror for him to be aware of every moment, to live through it all and feel helpless."

"You feel mercy for a killer?" he asked, surprise marking his expression. "When you felt that all should have oversight and punishment?"

Natasha looked at him with her neutral but grave expression. "Punishment is only worthwhile when you can learn something from it. If you can't derive a lesson from it, when you're not capable of changing your course of action, it's not punishment anymore. It's torture. It's hurting someone so that you don't have to."

"You speak from experience?"

Though her lips quirked at him, her eyes were sad. "The world is aware of that experience."

T'Challa wasn't going to admit that he had devoured her publicly available files after meeting her at the Accords signing, that he had noticed the gaps and redacted information that hadn't been released. She might have dumped SHIELD's secrets, but they weren't all of them, and they weren't the highest level ones. It had been a calculated move, obviously, and one that had kept the hounds at bay for a time.

"Are you atoning for your sins, then?" T'Challa asked quietly.

"We all are. We're flawed," Natasha replied. "Liars and killers in the service of liars and killers," she said. There was the air of an in joke he didn't understand, but he didn't press the issue. "All we can do is try our best, to go the straight path, to make up for any evil we've done and hope that it's enough, that it wipes out the red."

Something shifted in T'Challa's mind, and he recalled the discussion that Natasha had with Peggy earlier, of cruelties merely hinted at. "Have you been able to make up for it?"

"Some," Natasha replied softly.

"And for Mr. Barnes here..."

"We were weapons to be used once. I managed to take control of myself. I hope he can do the same someday."

"Mr. Fury thinks it's possible, with the psychologists and different files he found."

"For Bucky's sake, I hope it works," she murmured. "And for Steve's. He'll be devastated if it doesn't, and even more determined to think this is all his fault."

"Whose fault do you think it is?"

Natasha sighed heavily, her expression drawn. "There's too many to blame easily. There was Zola, who experimented on him in the first place. There were those that took a damaged, nearly dead body and transformed it into something they could use. The ones that put the triggers in his head in the first place. The ones that used him without any kind of regard to who he was or should have been..."

"You should work with him when we wake him," T'Challa decided. He wasn't amused by her surprise the way he thought he would be. Instead, this entire situation made him tired and cheerless. How many lives were ruined over the course of history? How many more would be caught in the cycle of vengeance and be destroyed by it?

"Wake him? But the—"

"I had my own agents on the lookout for the missing data we needed." At her silence, he smiled mirthlessly. "Outside of Wakanda, we are simply dark skinned immigrants. In the United States especially, we are seen for the color of our skin. The prejudice is different in Europe, in different parts of Africa. So we aren't seen. And no one monitors what they say around the help. So our agents easily tracked down where Zemo sent the information he found."

"He asked to be kept on ice. He felt that he was too dangerous to be woken up—"

"There are resources enough to put that to the test."

Breath whistling in through her teeth, Natasha leaned back a little. "I hope it's not a mistake."

T'Challa fixed her with a mirthless smile. "So do I."

***

"I think I may be of use," Peggy told T'Challa without preamble as soon as she was seated in his conference room. She had requested an audience, and the dora milaje had been amused and impressed by the quiet confidence. Some had remarked that she acted as if she was a member of the dora milaje herself, which T'Challa understood to be the praise it was.

"In what way?" he asked her, gesturing for a servant to begin pouring tea.

Peggy smiled graciously at the young man and thanked him, then waited for T'Challa to raise his cup before raising hers to take a sip. "I'm a dead woman, after all," she said pointedly after she wet her lips with the tea. She couldn't help but smile at the blink the servant made, even though he obviously was supposed to be invisible. "Quite all right, dear man. But the news reports state that I am dead. Possibly we can forge papers and say I am my own granddaughter or some rot like that, it doesn't matter. But this is a world in utter shambles, and it must be put to rights. I cannot sit back if I may help in some capacity."

Oh yes, T'Challa could see why the dora milaje had been impressed by her attitude.

"It is quite a shock to realize that you're presumed dead."

Letting out a small breath, Peggy nodded and put down her cup. "It is a shock, yes. One of many I've had in my lifetime, and I'm sure that there will be more." She held up a hand when T'Challa was about to say something. "I don't need to know the science, if you think I'm not ready for it, this isn't about that. Greater minds than mine can puzzle that out. It wasn't where I was most useful in the past. I was a codebreaker. I took command in covert operations. I investigated where others would look blindly at me and see just a woman and not the mind I possess. It was especially the case in peacetime. There must be a role I may play now."

"I disagree in your assessment," T'Challa began, nearly smiling when she began to have an affronted expression. "I think you can understand the science very well."

"Could I?" she asked, blinking in surprise. "Very well, tell me of the science involved in my miraculous resurrection and recovery."

"Howard Stark gave you a version of the super soldier serum," T'Challa said, and took a sip of his tea while Peggy digested that piece of information. "I have samples of blood from you, Steve Rogers and James Barnes. There are several markers that are the same."

"The freezing process?"

"No," T'Challa disagreed. "I had others at the medical college independently study the same samples, and they came to the same conclusion."

Peggy was very still, and looked at him evenly. "Which is that Howard gave me an untested concoction meant to be similar to Erskine's serum, which could not have been, because there were no samples left, no vita rays involved—"

"Similar to the version that Steve Rogers was given in how it function, not in how it was made or administered," T'Challa said smoothly. "What we know of the aging process regards something called telomeres at the ends of genes. They're caps to protect the genes from degrading, so to speak; damage in any way shortens them, and cuts down the number of replications that can be made. Once the telomere is too short, the cell either stops dividing or undergoes apoptosis, or planned cell death."

Peggy gave him a wan smile. "You're doing quite well explaining this, Your Highness. I don't know why you worried I wouldn't understand."

"Shorter telomeres in current research is indicated in cancers, and in response to stress or poor lifestyle choices. Stress shortens the telomeres, and that includes things like mental disorders, hormones, any damage to a person's DNA." T'Challa paused, then gently inclined his head in her direction. "What this serum in your blood is to return the telomere lengths to their optimum. It essentially delays and reverses the aging process. This is what would allow you to heal, to be in peak physical condition, to have fast reflexes, and to refrain from getting ill."

A hand on her stomach, Peggy took in a deep breath. "Oh dear."

"There's more," he said gently.

Her eyes flew to his, startled and with a trace of fear. "Of course there is." She nodded briskly, clearly bracing herself for it. "There's more. Tell me what it is."

"You likely never knew what happened, because it seems to be something that only activates upon a death." There was compassion in his tone and gaze as he related this last piece of relevant information; he wouldn't have relegated it to a researcher, even the lead, because Peggy at least knew T'Challa. She wouldn't have known any of the doctors on the research team, and might not have trusted them.

The distress in her gaze wasn't for herself, however. "Steve died? When we were testing the serum?" She swallowed painfully and looked down, shaking her head. "Oh, my darling. Why did he never say anything?" she murmured. But immediately afterward, she gave a bitter huff of mirthless laughter. "Because I was about to stop the experiment. I wouldn't hurt him. So of course he said it was fine. We were killing him, and he let us."

"I don't think he knew," T'Challa offered, leaning forward to get her attention. "It's not the death, exactly. I think the serum interacts with adrenaline, and the amounts of which needed for this to work are released in the panic of an approaching death. Obviously, we wouldn't know for sure unless we tested the theory."

Peggy recoiled from him. "Absolutely not!"

"We are not intending or planning on such a thing, and those of us that have studied this serum and its markers are a very small and trusted few. Miss Carter, I tell you this not to alarm you, but to let you know that there is a reason for your appearance here. There is a reason you survived, and it's not a mistake."

"There are no mistakes, no coincidences," Peggy murmured, gaze turned inward.

"Precisely," T'Challa agreed with a nod.

Her posture slumped a little and she had a near helpless expression on her face. "So what does this mean for me, long term?"

"You age incredibly slowly, Miss Carter. Your body will be able to repair some of the damage done to it, healing quickly. Cuts, abrasions, broken bones and the like. Cancer is likely not one of the ills you will ever suffer. Nor the dementia that your clone had," he added thoughtfully. "It would take grievous injury to kill you, but you are still very much mortal. As are Captain Rogers and Mr. Barnes."

"All the more reason to be useful, I suppose," she told him, a faint smile on her lips. "The knowledge I possess might be outdated, but sometimes the old ways are best. Too few of the modern agents would be able to guess the old codes and drops."

T'Challa reached forward and touched the back of her hand. It was an informality that few ever received from him, and it made the servant gasp in surprise. Not knowing Wakanda or its customs, Peggy didn't realize the honor he had just bestowed upon her. Rumors would likely soon spread about the woman who could heal from ordinary wounds that the King treated as a respected equal.

She smiled at him, a sad one that didn't reach her eyes, and one that he suspected she often used when relaying terrible news to others. "Every king and country has need of intelligence, and I have need to be of use. So perhaps we may help each other."

He nodded gravely. "I do believe we can."

"Excellent. When do I start?"

***

Peggy found Steve looking out over the jungles of Wakanda, the statue of its protector looking over the valley. He didn't startle as she sidled up next to him, a hand sliding down his back before resting at his waist. Steve put an arm around her shoulders, holding her close as his breath hitched. "I thought I lost everything," he said quietly. "I had a nightmare. Wanda can induce them, bring on your greatest fear."

"And what was your fear?"

"That the war was over and there was no place for me," he said quietly. "What do I know of anything except fighting anymore? I can't stand down. I can't give you a simple dance or a house and two kids in the country. I can't give you peace."

His voice was so broken, so hurt. Peggy squeezed him tightly, her throat closing up in empathic agony. "Who said I wanted those things?"

The quiet words startled Steve. "We used to talk about after the war, of settling down—"

"Because that was what we were supposed to do. I had a time after the war before I was frozen," she pointed out. "I didn't do settling down very well. I was an Agent, I couldn't stay still. I couldn't stand down either."

Steve looked at her, lips quivering a little. "Who am I, if I'm not a soldier anymore?"

"And who am I, if I'm not a spy?"

"You're Peggy," he told her instantly, voice sure and firm.

"And you're Steve," she told him patiently. "And what we do is help each other, however we can. Maybe all they expected you to be was a fighter with a pretty face, someone to sell war bonds and dress up. But you were more than what they expected you to be. And goodness knows, they never saw past my sex. We're both more than what we were supposed to be. So be more than a soldier, and I'll be more than a spy."

"So who are those people going to be?" Steve asked, sounding as unsure as he had when Peggy had first met him.

She reached up and touched his chest. "We're going to do good, whatever it means in this time," she said firmly. "You have such heart, and it's broken. We'll mend it, and we'll do what we can in this awfully broken world. No one expects it of us."

"We'll be recognized," Steve said, shoulders slumping.

"Would we really? A man out of time and a younger version of a dead woman? With the tech that seems to be available, and the remnants of SHIELD out there, I think there is still a lot of good that we might do." She pulled him close and rested her head on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear, and oh, how good was it to hear again. "We can't sit idle, we're not that kind. I'm sure we'll make mistakes; this isn't our world, not really. But we get back up, we give it a try. If we hide too long, the evil wins."

"All evil needs is for good men to do nothing," Steve murmured, dropping his chin onto the top of her head.

"Exactly," Peggy said, nodding against his chest. Steve was warm and solid in her arms, and the longing she had tried to push away was finally fulfilled. She squeezed her eyes shut. There might have been the fantasy of a white wedding dress, flowers and a church. But the woman that had wanted such things was long gone.

This woman was practical, and would take what she could get.

Pulling back, she grinned up at him. "Marry me, Steve."

He sputtered, the darling innocent, and she couldn't help but laugh at his shock. "Are you telling me that you wouldn't have proposed if you made it back to New York in one piece?"

"I would'a thought it would be more romantic." He untangled his arms from around her and then knelt in front of her. "Oh, wait. I should be on one knee."

Peggy laughed and placed her hands on his shoulders. "I love you, Steven Grant Rogers. And all the maddening nonsense that it will entail in this time. It doesn't matter who says it first, that doesn't stop it from being true."

Steve smiled at her, a soft and sensitive one she doubted he offered many people. "I've always loved you, Peggy. You're the standard everyone else has to live up to."

"Low standards, indeed," she joked, cupping his face in her hands. She silenced his protests. "We can ask King T'Challa how we can get it done in his country."

"Now?" he asked in surprise.

"Steve," she said gently, caressing his face. "We've waited long enough. I don't intend to wait any longer than we have to."

His grin was answer enough, but for good measure he got up and swept her up into his arms. Laughing all the while, they headed out to seek an audience with the king.

***  
***


	4. Violent Games

It was T'Challa that suggested waking Bucky so that he could be there at the wedding. Sam seemed resigned to sharing the man of honor spot with Bucky, and Natasha was clearly startled that Peggy requested that she act as maid of honor. "I... I suppose I could play at that role," she had murmured, eyes sliding away from Peggy.

"Playing? Rubbish, who better to be at my side than one of Steve's good friends?" Peggy had said, reaching forward and grasping Natasha's arm. She smiled widely at her, and nodded at Wanda Maximoff, who was in not much more than a red T shirt, black skirt and sandals. "This is the family we have, yes? So of course you must all be here."

Natasha's eyes slid away again, skipping past Wanda as she swallowed uneasily. "I suppose."

T'Challa sat beside Natasha, expression grave. "We will need your assistance with Mr. Barnes, Miss Romanoff," he told her formally. "If he is to wake and be acclimated in time for the nuptials, then he will need someone able to help him."

Her gaze was sharp. "He shot me at least twice, tried to choke me—"

"But you don't cower in your fear, and you would do your duty. He could not rely on Mr. Rogers or Miss Carter to even attempt taking him down should the protocols be engaged."

"I will help," Wanda offered, a weak smile on her face. "He has a mind. He dreams of ice and snow, and fears it. I could use that."

Steve had a pained expression on his face, and he looked around the room. "I can't ask any one of you to do something you're not comfortable with. And I won't. If this isn't an idea that will work, we don't do it."

"But Bucky means the world to you," Natasha murmured.

"So do the rest of you," he answered honestly. "And I've put you all in tough positions already. I can't ask you to do that again."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing you're not asking," Sam said, shrugging. "I'm in."

"As if you ever weren't," Wanda huffed, a smile on her lips. "I'm in."

Natasha's lips curled a little in the corners. "It's good to have back up."

T'Challa gave a pleased smile, and stood. "Then we will speak with Dr. Cho about reversing the cryogenics process. I know I have assigned a team to help her work on the prosthetic arm. She has done a lot of research into the neural connections and by now should have designs for one that stresses the joints far less."

Steve shot him a grateful look. "Thank you."

"I meant it when I said that there is no further place for vengeance," he said with a nod, acknowledging the words. "Revenge and hate only furthers the cycle of toxicity and destruction, and it must end. I will see it done, even if only in my own kingdom."

"We'll help however we can," Peggy promised. She smiled warmly at T'Challa as she tightened her grip on Steve's hand. "I don't imagine that we would have an extended honeymoon in a climate like this. There might not be overt fighting, but looking at news reports and the internet, it seems that there is still a war of a sort brewing throughout the world."

"Fear of Inhumans, fear of magic, fear of loss of control," T'Challa agreed.

"We should probably get in touch with Coulson, if that works with your country's needs," Natasha murmured. "He has a version of SHIELD up and running, so that begins part of an international information network."

"It would not meet our needs," T'Challa said, tone brooking no argument even as it was polite. "I have a network in place already. Nations such as mine cannot remain independent and relatively isolated from wars without knowing how the politics of the rest of the world operate. You would be aiding the network I have, not another."

Natasha nodded. "Of course."

"Is this going to be a test of loyalties?" he asked, concern coloring his tone.

"No," she said quietly, shaking her head. "It's not the organization that matters. It's who I would work with and for. It's what the information would be used for."

Peggy moved from Steve's side and sat down beside Natasha as T'Challa frowned. "I understand what you mean," she said, leaning in toward Natasha without touching her. The words were more for T'Challa's benefit than for Natasha's. "Organizations can be like family, if those of blood are no longer there."

"I don't think we can ask Clint to do dangerous missions," Natasha added, looking up at the king with a blank expression. "He has his family to think of, and it was dangerous enough to get them here without anyone realizing where Clint and the rest of us were."

T'Challa smiled benignly at her. "We are aware of everyone's talents and how best to use them, not to worry. My ministers and I have been in discussion."

It didn't outwardly disturb Natasha, but Peggy felt the tension in her form. "I see."

"Formal discussions and plans will be held after the nuptials. It would not do to ruin such a joyous occasion with talk of secrets and spies."

Knowing full well how dependent they were on T'Challa's mercies, they all had to agree.

***

The moment consciousness came to Bucky Barnes, he bit his tongue hard enough to bleed to keep from screaming. _No! You can't wake me up! No!_

It was worse when he saw the familiar notebook in unfamiliar hands. The terror ratcheted up higher when he saw the Black Widow beside the unfamiliar women and the tall black man with one bad eye. _They're going to start it again, I can't make them stop, I won't let it happen again, I won't be used—_

"Bucky," Steve said, somewhere to his right. The fear didn't ease, not much, because it could be a trap, it could be a trick—

Steve moved into his line of vision, in front of the unfamiliar people. Concern was in every feature, and Bucky could feel his gut twist in apprehension. What had he done? What else would Steve endure because of him, or that Bucky would endure for Steve's sake? They were wound into each other's souls, and there was no taking that apart.

"We think we can get the triggers out," he said quietly, lifting his hands. Clearly telegraphing every move, Steve leaned in enough to rest his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You can live, and it can be safe for you. I promise."

"You don't _know,"_ he rasped, the taste of blood bitter in his mouth. The taste was too familiar, and a dim part of the back of his mind was almost comforted by it. Some things stayed the same, no matter what was done to him.

"We do," the Black Widow said, her husky voice familiar as well. His mind didn't process it, not really, not much more than _familiar – don't kill – important to the mission – trust _and then suspicion crept in as she took a step forward. "They got a number out of my head, and we think it might be the same process, given the notes that your prior handlers made."__

__The damn notebook. He wanted to burn it._ _

__"If no one has the words, I can't be triggered, is that it?" Bucky asked, bitterness in his voice._ _

__"No," Steve said, tightening his grip on Bucky's shoulder. "We get the triggers out entirely. So that your mind is your own again, and it's only your will."_ _

__Oh, God, why was that even more terrifying than knowing someone else could control him so thoroughly, so completely?_ _

__"I'm here." There was something in his eyes, something Bucky couldn't interpret. "And Peggy's here. Hydra had her, too. Fury found her, and she's awake. You're not alone, Buck. We're all going to help you through it."_ _

__He didn't want to believe. Hope was painful. Hope was the first thing that got stripped away along with his sense of self and willpower. Steve could feel the shiver that rolled through him, but he could hear the click of heels striding forward, a familiar stride, and then when he finally trusted enough to turn his head, he could see Peggy Carter herself, hair in waves and mouth as lipsticked red as it used to be._ _

__"Hello, Sargeant," she said, clasping her hands in front of her. "Seems as though we're all stuck out of time without a home." Her smile was rueful and sad. "Perhaps we can help each other."_ _

__"This is fuckin' unbelievable," Bucky muttered._ _

__There was a smattering of shocked glances or gasps. The Black Widow smirked, and both Steve and Peggy laughed. "Science has a way of making the unbelievable believable, I assure you. I have seen such things that make absolutely no sense, but it doesn't make it any less true," Peggy told him. Her brisk tone was reassuring. "Shall we begin the work of finding ourselves a place in this new world?"_ _

__Bucky didn't want to hope. He didn't want to believe. But as he looked around the room, he couldn't help but feel the first bright spark of hope begin to burn in his chest._ _

__"Yeah. Let's give it a go."_ _

____

***

It hadn't been his idea, but Natasha was the one in the room with Bucky along with the psychiatrist doing the initial psychiatric evaluation. Of course whatever he said would be open knowledge, but it was different knowing _she_ would be there to listen. It made sense that the psychiatrist would feel safer with someone at her back in case Bucky was triggered, even accidentally. She had coal black skin and hair in twists that carried a glossy shine. She was very professionally dressed, a violet suit that was especially vibrant next to her dark skin. Her heels were tasteful and not terribly high, and she had only a simple ballpoint pen and spiral notebook with her, as well as a tape recorder.

Every single item could be turned into a weapon if he so chose. Even with only one arm, _he_ was a weapon if he so chose.

"Let us begin, if it is all right with you," the psychiatrist said, her voice warm like honeysuckle and approachable. His instincts didn't scream that she was duplicitous, and he felt that she would do exactly what she said she would do.

Still, his breathing was rapid and his body was tense. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

Natasha was seated behind her, no note taking equipment at all, though Bucky didn't think she would miss anything that was said.

"I am Dr. Amira Yelba, and a forensic psychiatrist among the people here in Wakanda. This is an interview to determine your current mental state, as well as to assess your memories in a logical and linear timeline. We are working with the assumption that you can give consent to the entire memory and trigger discovery process, but if I find that you lack capacity in any way, I will halt the process and only allow it to be reinstated when you regain capacity."

Bucky swallowed and stared at her. "I know that's English, but not the kind that makes sense to me. I only ever was a soldier."

Dr. Yelba's gaze was sharp. "I sincerely doubt that, Sergeant Barnes. You had excellent marks in mathematics and the sciences prior to your draft into the military. Your superiors frequently remarked on your leadership capabilities and tactical skills. You were never _only_ a soldier to anyone, and I think we can proceed better if we don't pretend otherwise." Her voice softened somewhat. "If it is too stressful to go through your memories, we can proceed when you are comfortable. We are not in a hurry."

"We're not? But Steve—"

"Is subject to my determination," Dr. Yelba interrupted with a smile. "He agreed to such."

He gave a startled burst of laughter. "That must've been a sight to see. Steve's stubborn as fuck, and he never knew when to quit."

"Still doesn't," Dr. Yelba replied, still smiling. "But we will do what's best for _you."_

That surprised Bucky. "Really?"

"Really." She still had her hands folded on the table. "You are a thinking, feeling person, and we will be respecting your wishes as best as we can."

Bucky caught the phrasing. "As best as you can."

Dr. Yelba nodded. "If you are a danger to yourself or others, there will be additional steps."

"You mean her," Bucky said sourly, flicking a glance at Natasha.

"Not at all," Dr. Yelba said, shaking her head. "She is to clarify whatever terminology you may use that I do not. Or should you speak in a language I am not familiar with."

He blinked in surprise. "That's it?"

"I speak Housa, Wakandan, English and French. In that order of proficiency."

While it might have been amusing to try out the French, he didn't want to irritate the doctor. She was being straightforward and fair, which was better than he thought he would receive when caught. Of course, he thought Hydra would catch him, and it would be exactly like what Zemo had done to his mind.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Bucky looked down at the table. "What do you want to know?" he asked finally.

"We can start wherever you wish. It's my job to make sense of it, after all," she added with a smile. Bucky got the feeling it was genuine. She was very professional, but there was a soul beneath that veneer. Just knowing that made him feel a little protective of her. Untangling the lies in mind and the horrors he perpetuated as the Winter Soldier would horrify her, and he didn't want to do that.

She reached across the table and took his hand gently, as if she wasn't afraid he could use it against her. "No judgment, Sergeant Barnes. This is a fact finding mission, if you wish to think of it in those terms. We are trying to piece together what happened as best as we can, in the order it was done. Only then can we see where the alterations were made to your mind."

"You really think you can find it?"

There was an edge to Dr. Yelba's smile, something that suddenly had him second guessing his protective instinct. "I am determined. I think you are, too. We will find what the _kwarkwa_ had done to you and reverse it."

Bucky found himself smiling in response to that, and he could see the corner of Natasha's mouth tick up. "Huh. I like the sound of that, even not knowing what you just called 'em. I can tell it's not nice."

Dr. Yelba laughed. "There is a reason I was chosen to assist you, Sergeant Barnes," she replied.

"Call me Bucky," he said after a moment. "Lemme tell you how it was like before. Before the war, before the experiments, before everything. What I was back then, before it all went to shit."

Though she had pen and paper, Dr. Yelba didn't reach for them right away. "Whenever you're ready." Her hand went to the tape recorder. "Don't worry about me keeping up. You tell your tale however you feel most comfortable."

Sad smile in place, Bucky began to talk about growing up in Brooklyn.

***

Walking through the market, Natasha ignored the whispers of foreigners and white ghosts. Sam thought it was hilarious, but of course he would. He liked needling her sometimes, since it showed her that he didn't think any less of her now that she was in the wind along with the rest of them. "You're still you," he'd said when she pointed it out. "Badass and bad, and good people. I know you, Nat. Whatever they say on BBC or CNN, they don't know you."

It felt odd to be a ghost when she hadn't intended to be one.

To be honest, it was even odder to be walking through the market with Bucky Barnes as if the two were friends. Or at least colleagues. She wasn't sure what he truly remembered, because the initial two hour session talking with Dr. Yelba didn't even touch the war period. Natasha hadn't had to stay for that, but somehow, she had felt compelled to. What she remembered and what she learned through files weren't always the same, and she couldn't even be entirely certain that her memories were as clear as she liked to believe.

He had been given a room in the fairly large villa that T'Challa had let them all stay in as they found their footing in Wakanda. Used to silence, Natasha moved through the market with him, picking out grocery items on the shopping list that they had all put together. She was picking up some of the Wakandan in the market, and observed Bucky moving in such a way that he could cover her if shooting started, even though he didn't carry any weapons and still had only one arm at the moment. His taut body language didn't seem to indicate any clear dangers, and was likely from his nerves at being in the open market.

"Shadow at two o'clock," she said conversationally in Russian, taking her purchases from the market stall. "What do you think it is?"

His eyes snapped to the spot she indicated, and then he turned to glare at her. "It's a fuckin' tree."

"Possibly the most dangerous thing in this market besides us, don't you think?" she replied in mild tones, still in Russian.

Bucky had responded in kind, at ease in the language as he was in English, French or German. If she had to guess, he also had fairly good Czech, Sokovian and Polish.

He snarled at her in some guttural sounds that didn't really correspond to any language. "Tryin' to kill me by inches, are you?" he finally snapped.

"Seeing how fast your reflexes are," she replied, still in that easy, conversational Russian that didn't seem to alarm any of the Wakandans around them. She proceeded to the next market stall, and perused the vegetables on sale. When Bucky followed her with a surly posture, she flashed him a bright and patently false smile. "You need an outlet, comrade. Sitting idle isn't in your nature any longer."

"You think you're the outlet?" he scoffed.

"I remember what it was like, coming in from the cold. I remember the debriefings, the attempts to create a linear history." Her smile was knife sharp. "I know the kind of tension in you, where the thinnest thread would be enough to snap."

"I won't kill anyone. I don't do that anymore."

"I don't doubt it," she lied pleasantly in Russian. A strike with a metal fist or booted foot could lead to concussions at best, hemorrhages at worst. He could kill without meaning to. "But you need a way to vent the tension. I think I should propose sparring to the king. He may not approve, thinking it too violent for you. But I think it would help purge the memories of what they had you do."

"You mean bring them to the surface," he replied bitterly. "I already remember too much."

"I mean to make it your own. To take ownership of your body." Natasha turned and leveled a hard stare at him. "You were not a person to them. You were a thing to control. A ghost at best in the intelligence community, but still a _thing._ For the past seventy years, you suffered many indignities and not once did you have the ability to consent or refuse what they asked of you." Her voice dropped and her gaze softened. "I know what that's like, and I know how hard it is to shake off."

His jaw worked as he tried to think of something to say. "I ain't your patsy."

"I think Steve would be willing to spar," she continued in Russian. "And the King might be willing to join in. He's a talented fighter. Sam and Wanda and Clint might enjoy the exercise, keep their skills sharp."

"You're crazy."

Natasha grinned at him. "Like a fox." She leaned in slightly, just enough to make him uncomfortable, but he refused to back up even half a step. "Just like you."

He had nothing to say in response.

***

Wanda was attending classes at the Wakandan Academy for Advanced Studies; it had classes in witchcraft and powers control, as the high concentration of vibranium in some areas of the country seemed to generate powers and abilities like the fish oils impregnated with terragenesis crystal particles. The Wakandans didn't have the chrysalis stage in their power development as Inhumans did, but simply developed them, as if the vibranium was a mutagen of some kind. Her excitement meant that Steve was considering taking classes, too. He suggested it to Bucky when he moved into the villa. Bucky had remained quiet, only saying "I'll think 'bout it" when the silence grew awkward and uncomfortable.

True to Natasha's prediction in the market, T'Challa and the Avengers readily agreed to sparring in one of the large training areas near the palace. The dora milaje kept vigil over the training grounds to ensure that their beloved king wasn't about to be unduly harmed, especially by the ragtag collection of foreigners. Bucky refused to participate initially, citing the fact that Dr. Helen Cho hadn't finished working on his prosthesis yet. T'Challa may have snorted inelegantly at the lame excuse, but said nothing. Most of the sparring was simple hand to hand, just to practice various forms of self-defense and attack strategy. Wanda wasn't as good as the others, but Natasha was patiently teaching her various techniques that would work best with her slight physique, as well as allowing her opponent to underestimate her.

Bucky doubled over where he sat on a bench, gut clenching. He wrapped his one arm around himself tightly, feeling his fingers dig into his side. The scene was too familiar, even if the angle was all wrong, his memories hazy and unclear.

_He remembered._

A stern yet smug voice talking, just outside of his peripheral vision. Girls lined up in their loose uniforms, ready for training and sparring. They were young and appeared fragile, but it was meant to be deceptive. Each girl was trained to be a ruthless killer, to be the weapon pointed in the proper direction and then let loose to fire. _Just a game, comrade. Let's see how the girls fare against the Asset. It'll weed out the weak ones._

The redhead that was his partner at the end of the games was the best in the class. He knew that, she knew that. Yet she faltered, tapped out. She tripped and fell.

 _Clumsy,_ Madame Bolishinko said, her voice cutting and cruel. _Sloppy._

 _I failed,_ the girl said, not meeting her eyes as the old men filed out. The Asset had been left behind to clean up the mess left behind from two broken girls.

 _Silly girl, pretending to fail,_ Madame Bolishinko huffed. _You know you need the graduation ceremony in order to take your place in the world._

She looked up, and there was a hard edge in her eyes, one that the Asset couldn't name. _I have no place in the world._

Madame Bolishinko smiled, looking predatory. _Exactly._

Both left him behind; he was the Asset, he was a thing, he was the training dummy for the girls to practice against. But this redhead had dared look back at him as she left the room, a troubled look on her face. He remembered lifting a hand in farewell, then going back to his grisly task before their superiors would return.

_He remembered._

Steve was at his side instantly, of course. To Bucky's surprise, Sam and T'Challa were there as well. Behind them, Natasha and Wanda had stopped sparring and were looking anxiously in his direction. Not in fear of him, but _for him._ They cared, they worried about his wellbeing, they wanted him to be well. It was such a new sensation, it took his breath away.

"I remember," he gasped, not knowing what language he was even speaking in. By Steve's puzzled expression, it probably wasn't English, French or German. He repeated himself in English, tripping over the syllables. His tongue felt thick and awkward in his mouth, as if it was a strange creature that belonged to someone else.

T'Challa motioned for one of the dora milaje to come closer, and it sounded like he wanted Dr. Yelba to be summoned immediately. But it was going to be a mess, wasn't it? This was just another test, another violent game that Hydra was playing on him. It was an illusion, something put into his head. He couldn't trust himself or perceptions, couldn't hurt the others, even if they weren't real. He shivered, knowing that he was dangerous, this was stupid, they never should have taken him out of the freezer.

 _"Soldat,"_ Natasha suddenly barked from across the arena. All of the dora milaje were on edge at that, each warrior poised to move. They had to protect their king, and all these foreigners were suspect. Any one of them would go down instantly.

Bucky looked up, a helpless expression on his face. He was trying to make himself into a smaller target, twisting and curling himself up. God, Steve looked about to cry, and Wanda had a hand over her mouth, Sam was concerned, the King was concerned, and Clint just looked confused. He dug his fingers deeper into his side, not knowing how else to contract further, how else to get himself out of their line of vision.

"The Red Room, isn't it?" she asked, an edge to her voice. It was the same tone she had used with Madame Bolishinko. He could only choke in response. "I remember, too," Natasha said in a softer tone now that she had his attention. "It happened, Bucky. All of it."

His expression crumpled and he let his head fall. "They had me... They made me..."

"I remember, too," Natasha repeated quietly. There was a defeated slump in her shoulders.

Steve whipped his gaze around to stare at her accusingly. "Did you plan for this to happen?"

"No," she said in that same quiet tone. "But I knew it was a possibility." She met Steve's gaze without flinching. "But the things that they had us do, there aren't good ways to push through it. And he has to push through it to get past it."

"But you don't get past it, not really," Steve said, disappointed.

"As best as any of us can," Natasha disagreed.

Dr. Yelba arrived then, Peggy at her heels. "Good Lord," Peggy cried, coming to a halt when Dr. Yelba continued toward Bucky. "What in the world happened here? Are we found?"

T'Challa looked at her with a grim expression. "In a manner of speaking, Miss Carter."

***  
***


	5. Scars We Carry

When Natasha walked into Helen Cho's medical suite in the college, Bucky was already there and sitting on an examination table, a new metallic arm affixed in place. He watched anxiously, occasionally twitching his fingers in response to Helen's suggestions. She had a tablet in hand and was making adjustments based on her readings. Nearby, her son Amadeus Cho was lounging on a chair, one leg thrown over the side, a laptop in front of him that he poked at with a look of intense concentration on his face. Natasha couldn't help but grin at the sight of them all, oblivious to her presence in the doorway.

Natasha approached Amadeus first, creeping up behind him to look at the screen. As she suspected, it was Block Breaker, and she started laughing. That startled Amadeus enough that he shot upright in the chair, leg swinging over the arm rest and jostling the laptop, nearly sending it crashing to the floor. The laughter also startled Helen and Bucky, but neither jumped as much as Amadeus did.

"You forgot to message me when you cracked the encryption code," she told the twelve year old with a smile.

"Yeah, well, I got sidetracked by a dozen levels of Block Breaker," Amadeus replied ruefully. "It's simple, but _addicting."_

"And a nice break from all the code work and studying you've been doing," she said.

"Oh, like Mom's romance novels?"

Helen appeared embarrassed, and Natasha shot her a sympathetic smile. "Exactly. You need a break from all the serious stuff. And it has to be something easy and comforting. I don't imagine you reading a medical thriller would be relaxing," she said to Helen.

The doctor snorted. "I'd pick apart the inaccuracies in the science. I would imagine you'd do the same with spy novels."

"Exactly. They do it all wrong," Natasha replied, pulling up a chair and sitting beside Amadeus near the exam table. "But romance novels, that's a nice kind of predictable. Bad guys get their comeuppance, the hero and heroine get together, and it all ends well. At least, in the ones that have actual plot."

"I think those are better than Harlequins," Helen agreed. "But those are good if I've had a really bad day," she admitted.

Natasha grinned at her and leaned forward in her chair. "Not too many of those lately though, right? It's been fairly calm here for you, and the research opportunities here at the college are fantastic, aren't they?"

"Certainly," Helen said with a nod. "And I appreciate you keeping Amadeus busy. Believe it or not, the advanced classes at the Institute bore him."

"Because they're easy!" Amadeus said, a hint of a whine in his voice. "I need a challenge!"

"Which is why I've been giving you those really old ciphers," Natasha pointed out, fondly brushing his shoulder. "How long did it take you to crack it?"

"Two days," he admitted with a rueful nod. "There's always the electrical engineering and robots, too, but Mom already warned me," Amadeus said before either Helen or Natasha could open their mouths, "no AI's for me. Theoretical models are one thing, but no outright design. And seeing what happened with the last fully operational AI in a robot body? I'm okay with that."

"So what would you use your theoretical model for?"

"Web searches or picking out next semester's classes. I think the School of Engineering is kind of sick of me by now," Amadeus said with a sigh. He flicked his gaze over to Bucky, who had remained very painfully silent. "I did the algorhythms for the sensory feedback on the arm, though. That was pretty neat."

"So is it better than the original?" Natasha asked Bucky.

He was clearly startled to be included, but nodded slowly. "It feels... Almost real."

The comment made Amadeus grin widely. "Really? Awesome!"

"Hey, maybe you have a future in cybernetic prosthetics," Natasha told him.

"Much safer than robotics, too," Helen pointed out mildly.

Bucky lifted the prosthetic arm. "It's lighter, too. My shoulder and collarbone doesn't hurt so bad as the old one did."

"We have better grafting techniques to put the connections together," Helen commented as he moved his fingers around. She put her tablet down and smiled at him as she took his silver hand in hers. "And there's far more vibranium in this arm than you likely had before. So that makes it very flexible, useful and light. Less damage to the rest of your body. I can make a synthetic skin based off of your own tissues to overlay this arm, if you like—"

"No," he barked, and then winced when he realized it startled the others. "It's just... If it looked real, like it wasn't the metal arm, I'd think this was a dream. Steve and Peg and weirdness, but..."

Natasha nodded immediately. "Your memory is already suspect enough as it is. The silver would be a way to anchor you in the present."

"Yeah. It's different enough I know you're not Hydra, but..." He frowned, trying to find the words to express himself clearly, and finally shook his head when he gave up. "I need reminders a lot. Still. Can't risk switching backward and being _him_ again."

"Which him?" Natasha asked in neutral tones. "The Bucky that Steve remembers or the Asset?"

He swung betrayed eyes toward her. "I can't be either of those men again."

"That's the thing," she murmured gently. "Only one of them had been treated as a man."

Bucky's breathing grew rapid and erratic, causing Helen's tablet to flash an alarm. She stepped into his line of vision and waved her hand briskly. "Sergeant," she said in a firm tone. His eyes snapped to her face, distress on his features. "You did have an appointment with Dr. Yelba coming up, right?"

"She was talkin' 'bout medications. I don't want 'em."

Helen nodded as if she expected such a thing. "Then I suggest you talk with her more. Or perhaps with Natasha and the others. They would understand far more than you think."

While he clearly wanted to disagree with that assessment, Bucky didn't argue. Natasha got up from her seat and brushed invisible lint off of her thighs. "That would be my cue, I think. Unless you have more testing to do, Helen?"

"Not at all. The fine tuning is my perfectionist streak," she said with a smile. "Now you get to see how well the arm actually works."

The flash of panic in Bucky's features disappeared faster than Helen would be able to track it, but Natasha saw it. She didn't remark upon it while going through the corridors, and didn't make any small talk. Bucky seemed nervous enough as it was.

Once inside the training room that T'Challa had ordered available to them, Natasha stood still and let Bucky examine the dimensions and displayed weapons. "This is a mistake," he said finally, looking at her. "I could kill you."

"Yet each time we met, you haven't," she replied evenly. "Because deep down, you remember, and because they couldn't erase enough to make you do it anyway."

She could see the shudder in his shoulders, but didn't comment on it. He turned away from her, but she didn't relax her guard for a moment.

Her instinct bore fruit when he suddenly turned and swung his new metal arm in an arc, as if he wanted to strike the top of her head. Natasha ducked and rolled, punching forward into his solar plexus, making him gasp for air. She didn't have her gauntlets or any weapons on her person, even knowing she was going to bring him to spar in the training room. This wasn't about using weapons, or triggering a lot of those old memories. It was about testing _his_ instincts and seeing how much of Bucky was coming back without Hydra's teams stripping him out.

It was like a dance, almost the way she remembered it in the Red Room before she had deliberately failed some tests. She lunged forward with a closed fist, and he ducked back and around, then swung his own fists. Her kicks were blocked with his muscled thigh, and he reached down to grab her leg. Expecting it, she twisted into a back flip, kicking at his head. Ducking back from her boots, Bucky had to let go of her. Natasha landed in a roll and twisted around in a splayed position, low to the ground. He was too far away to knock his feet out from under him, but Natasha rushed forward, head down but eyes up, peering through her lashes and hair. Bucky made to kick her, but she twisted and slid through his wide legged stance. As she did, she grabbed his ankle and let her momentum sweep his legs out and backward.

Bucky's hands kept his face from smashing into the rubberized floor; that would only prevent broken bones, not rug burn from skidding across the hard surface. He kicked behind him, not looking to see where he could connect, but he felt the solid weight of flesh against his boot. The air whooshing out of Natasha's lungs told him it was a good hit, too.

Rolling to his back, he saw Natasha's foot coming down toward his face. He continued the roll, then pushed up to his hands and knees. Her foot veered from its course and connected with his ribs. Falling to the side, Bucky looked up, arms up in a defensive posture.

"You're not really fighting me."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Fight me, Bucky."

 _"No!"_ he cried in an agonized tone. "I'm not that guy! I don't want to do this anymore!"

Natasha dropped her fighting stance and then offered a hand. "Then let me help you up."

"I've seen your help," he told her warily, awkwardly pushing himself up to his feet, ignoring the proffered hand. "No thanks."

She remained silent and only let her hand drop to the side. "I wasn't going to push the issue," she said finally.

"Of course you weren't." There was a thread of bitterness in his tone. "Everyone does, Natalia."

Her gaze sharpened. "How much do you remember?"

Bucky clearly wanted to curse under his breath, but she knew all the languages that he did. "All of it, okay?" he said finally, not meeting her eyes. "I remember everything."

"You're in control now." Natasha untucked her shirt and lifted it enough to expose the scar on her abdomen. "When you gave me this, you weren't in control. It wasn't you."

"Those code words are in my head," he ground out. "It's too easy to use them again."

"You don't trust Dr. Yelba? She's laying the groundwork for her team later on." Natasha stepped in close, looking up at him without an ounce of fear showing. "Or do you fear _us_ using the words on you? Do you think I'm still part of the Red Room?"

He swallowed, and then backed up a half step. Natasha grabbed his arms, halting his progress, and Bucky shook his head. "You're better off without me, doll. I'm a mess."

"You say that like we all aren't. Like this refuge isn't the only place that will keep us safe. Like we won't be tossed into prison the moment the public is aware of where we are." Natasha shook her head. "Like it or not, we're all a mess, and none of us has anywhere else to go."

"You don't know—"

"I remember what they did to me. I remember some of the overlays, too. So I do know what I'm talking about. _I remember."_

"Natalia..."

Her reply was cut off by the sound of voices down the hall. Peggy and Steve were coming in with Yemi, one of T'Challa's dora milaje. The woman was graceful and tall, carefully observant, with a clear strength of will and character. Natasha almost smiled at her, as she wasn't the woman that had threatened her before.

Peggy lit up at the sight of the two of them. "Splendid! More sparring partners."

Bucky managed to stifle a groan, and Natasha smiled in recognition. Fantastic timing on Peggy's part, which always helped.

Steve had a wide grin, and Natasha could sense Bucky tensing, as if he was going to take off running in the opposite direction. "We should clearly set out the rules," Natasha suggested, a smile on her face. "I don't think we should limit it to particular style of fighting, but definitely no weapons." She looked at Peggy with a pleasant grin. "I think we're dangerous enough as it is, don't you?"

Returning Natasha's amused smile, Peggy pulled Steve along. "Quite so. There are enough dirty tactics to use, and it's good practice."

"Planning to go into the field?" Natasha asked.

Bucky only looked at Peggy and Steve helplessly. "This is a bad idea..."

Peggy only snickered and approached Bucky without an ounce of fear, hooking her arm through his metal one. Bookended by both super soldiers, her grin was infectious. "All the good ones are, darling. And, if I'm to believe the tales they tell, I should learn to fight like all of you. Espionage in this day and age is quite different than simply taking whatever's around me to smash someone in the head."

"If it works," Natasha replied with a careless shrug, "stick with that."

"I'm rather good with my fists and kicks," Peggy acknowledged. "But my attacks don't seem to appear as graceful as yours."

"As long as it gets the job done," Steve began dutifully.

"Says the man that can launch himself up into a perfect plank and spin while fighting," Natasha teased him with a smile.

Both Peggy and Bucky looked at him in surprise. Natasha could almost see a predatory gleam in the dora milaje's eyes, as if she couldn't wait to plan a routine so she would be able to see him make that move for herself.

"You didn't used to do that," Bucky said, brows furrowing. "I don't think."

"I might've been training. And picking up tricks here and there," he admitted. "I don't have much to do other than train and practice and read up on tactics..."

"You're such a fuckin' dork, Steve," Bucky said, a fond note creeping into his tone.

Peggy was beaming at them both, and winked at Natasha. "I find it utterly delightful."

"You would," Bucky muttered, shaking his head.

Shifting her grasp on Bucky's arm to Natasha. "Well, then. Since we all have similar interests, I suggest we set a regular schedule to spar and train." She beamed at Steve before turning to the dora milaje member, eyes twinkling. "Though I don't think you would play fair, Steve," she remarked, glancing back at him. "Too fearful of hurting me. I should probably fight against Natasha or Bucky. Under supervision, of course."

Bucky seemed taken aback by the suggestion, and Natasha took charge of the moment to begin mapping out what they would do with their trainer's approval. He stayed frozen in place as Peggy removed her shirt to reveal the training bra and yoga pants that Natasha had suggested. "You have scars."

"Of course I do," Peggy replied in her usual no nonsense tone. "I had quite a difficult job, and obviously I survived all they tried to throw at me." Her tone softened and she offered him a smile. "As did you, of course."

"You shouldn't trust me," Bucky said quietly, voice no more than a low growl.

"On the contrary," Peggy declared. _"You_ should learn to trust you. You should trust our judgment, and realize we are capable of making our own decisions, as painful as they might be. I trust you to know your limits, and I trust you not to snap."

"You shouldn't."

"I absolutely should," she disagreed. "You are just a man, Bucky. For better or worse, a breakable one. But you're also a fine friend to Steve, were a fantastic officer, and trusted with a good many secrets before Hydra stole you from us. So yes, I should trust _you._ Hydra stole you and had to erase you in order for you to do their bidding. Which means that _you_ are trustworthy, and would never have done their foul work on your own."

He was very still for a moment, then swallowed. "Okay."

"All right, then," she said. "So you and Steve would be best partnered at first, until you realize your own strength with your new arm. Just..." She all but twinkled at him. "Be sure not to break Steve too badly, would you? I still plan on marrying him."

Natasha couldn't hide her smirk as she fell into a sparring stance across from Peggy. "I'm glad Nick found you, Peggy."

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I'm rather glad he did, too."

***

Wanda, Amadeus and Sam were all clustered around a work table, stacks of thick textbooks beside them. Amadeus was apparently helping Wanda with a project, and Sam had gotten roped into it out of curiosity. Sam ignored Bucky when he came into the room, paging through the report that Wanda was trying to write. Wanda offered Bucky a distracted smile, but Amadeus shot him a huge grin. "So. Arm works great, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Real smooth movement and sensory inputs."

"Think maybe you can come with me to my robotics class? I want to show the teacher the project I've been working on, and it isn't the same trying to couch it all as theoretical. I really want to show him the practical application."

He blinked slowly. "You think it's a good idea?"

"It's a state of the art prosthetic that gives you feedback as if it's a real arm," Amadeus scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Of course I think it's a good idea. Wanda was telling me about her history class, and there are different tribes in the outer districts of Wakanda that still do a lot of things the old fashioned way. Farming, hunting, whatever." Amadeus' enthusiasm for the idea was starting to show through, and he leaned across the table with a bright eyed and eager expression. "So if they lose a limb, they're out of commission. But if we can create a working limb for them that gives the same sensory input as the living one, they're back doing what they need to survive and support their families."

"Oh. I guess I never thought of it that way," he mumbled.

"You think?" Sam muttered under his breath, passing the paper back to Wanda.

"You got a problem with me, Wilson?" Bucky asked, frowning at him.

"Yeah, I do," Sam returned, looking at him. His lips were pursed for a moment as he tried to think of the best way to phrase what he wanted to say. "You walk around like you're better off in a deep freeze. Maybe you are, maybe you aren't. Not my call, either way. But instead of trying to prove that Hydra's goons didn't steal your soul or some shit, you try to hide yourself away. It's tiring to watch. Get up and _do something._ Yeah, you got a heavy weight to carry. You think the rest of us don't? You think we don't wish it went down a different way? Or that we don't have nightmares? Do you honestly think that you're the only one that ever got hurt?"

"No, I don't," Bucky said tightly, lips compressed into a thin line. His eyes flashed with anger, and his shoulders were tense. "But you'd all be better off without me in your lives."

"Man, get over yourself," Sam snapped irritably. "We're all here to save your sorry ass from prison. The least you can do is actually live the life you've got."

"I never asked for that!"

"As if Steve could ever let you go. As if any of us could stand by and let a bureaucrat decide what's right when they don't know how it all went down. We're grown ass adults that can make our own decision, Barnes. So respect that and get out of your pity party."

Bucky blinked. "Peggy said something like that, too."

"She's one that's got sense. Listen to her," Sam told him firmly.

"Steve seems to have a thing for responsible brunettes in his life," Wanda remarked in the silence. "All his friends try to take care of him because he lacks the sense to do it himself."

Amadeus snickered, then tried to smother it behind his hand when both Sam and Bucky turned to stare at him. "What? She's not wrong."

In spite of his irritation, Sam grinned at the teen. "Nope, she's not."

"I'm glad he's had you all," Bucky admitted after a moment, hanging his head a little. "You know, when I couldn't be."

"It's what friends do," Wanda told him.

Though he appeared thoughtful as he nodded, Bucky remained silent. Sam plopped down in a seat next to Amadeus, though he didn't even bother to look at the diagrams and schematics that the teen had. "I suppose if you're bored," he said in a deceptively casual tone, "you can maybe redesign or update my gear. The wings are good, but I think I cracked the goggles when we got out of the Raft. I just looked at 'em the other day with one of the dora milaje, but she didn't know how Stark wired it up."

The boy looked positively gleeful. "Really? You have it around somewhere? I'll absolutely go over the tech. I'll have to mock up the schematic, since you wouldn't have the original blueprints with you, then once I open it all up and—"

Wanda snickered. "Boys and their toys."

Amadeus pretended to be affronted. "These aren't _toys,_ Wanda. They're highly sophisticated tools in the hands of superheroes."

She only laughed and bumped shoulders with him. "And does the toolmaker wish to be a superhero as well, then?"

He ducked his head a little. "I'm still too young..."

"Spider-Man's actually a kid," Bucky said abruptly. "I heard it in his voice," he explained when the others looked at him. "Maybe not much older'n you."

That made the teen suddenly grin and Sam shake his head with a sigh. _"You_ tell his mother, man. I'm not taking the hit for you on that one."

Bucky bit his lip a little uncertainly, and then nodded. "Yeah. If it happens, I'll help you tell your mother. You helped me, so I owe you one," he told Amadeus.

"I don't think she'd appreciate it," Wanda told Amadeus. "So at least finish school first."

The boy snorted. "I can have the classes done in a month if they'd let me."

"Then give it a month," Bucky said in a tone that he usually reserved for reminding Steve not to do something stupid. "Bein' a hero isn't safe, you know." He lifted his metal arm. "There's a cost, and scars, and horrible things that can happen, even if you do the right thing."

Amadeus looked at him with wide eyes and gulped as he nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I promise."

Smiling at him, Bucky nodded and eased his stance. Sam gave him an appraising look, nodding a little to himself. It would be all right.

***  
***


	6. Wedding Bells

Peggy liked Jokotade, the dora milaje guard that T'Challa had assigned her. Usually the dora milaje were quite stoic and stern, their duty to guard and protect the king paramount in their minds. Jokotade wasn't any different, but she was less dismissive of the foreigners that T'Challa had allowed in their midst, particularly after the bomb that killed T'Chaka. The two often talked about their families and their countries; Peggy's views were that of the England she had left behind, but it was just as foreign to Jokotade as Wakanda was for Peggy. "Is it terribly rude to only include wedding elements from my time and country, when we're living here and fairly dependent on the goodwill of the King?" Peggy asked Jokotade.

Jokotade was a tall, lithe and muscular warrior as all of the dora milaje were. Her black skin made Peggy appear that much paler next to her, and her eyes were a golden brown in color that matched the amber jewelry she tended to wear. Her hair was pulled into tight braids, occasional amber beads threaded into it. Peggy was open in her admiration for the style, as well as for Jokotade's physical workouts. It had been she that suggested the trainer for everyone's sparring sessions, her cousin Yemi.

"I think it would seem far more rude if you tried to have a traditional Wakandan joining ceremony, when you clearly are not from our country," Jokotade told her politely.

"Oh! Of course, I'm sorry," Peggy said, biting her lip and pausing as they walked in one of the royal gardens. "I don't want to seem ungrateful for all your people are doing for us."

"Perhaps if you incorporated the flowers or entertainments," Jokotade suggested, gesturing around them. She lifted a hand, palm up, cupping a large white blossom. "These are a symbol of purity and hope, which would undoubtedly be welcome for your wedding."

Lighting up, Peggy grinned at her. "Oh, it's lovely. And a lovely idea, thank you. The only other arrangements I had a hand in planning had been in the midst of a war, and there wasn't much thought for meaning, only availability. Please, how else can we make this a celebration?"

"It would depend on which tradition you would choose to follow," Jokotade told her. "There are a great many tribes in Wakanda. Here in the capital, in the central districts, are the more technologically advanced and most like your Western countries. But outer districts have more farmland, ranches, roving tribes of nomadic herders and gatherers." She shrugged and then wove one of the white blossoms into Peggy's hair. "There are other cultures present in our country, and many still worship the ancient gods."

"Like the Black Panther statue," Peggy said.

"Yes. Or the goddess Bast, the Hyena, the Lion, the Crocodile or the White Gorilla. I do not believe any of these would be best for you."

"Probably not. But perhaps something that would be more like it is in the capital. You're right, it's closest to what Steve and I would be familiar with. Perhaps the music, or a traditional dance that the people here have when celebrating a union? Or a good luck charm of some kind? Given our history, something like that would be very much appreciated."

Jokotade laughed, nodding fractionally. "I may have heard some of the story, yes."

"If I were a sister or cousin, what would you advise for me?"

That sobered her immediately. "I would tell you to be certain he is worthy of your might. That he must be firm of hand, strong in belief, tender in heart, and formidable in will. He would be like an arm, an extension of your body and soul, and the two of you would meet and join in harmony. There will be difficult times ahead, even for the most harmonious of couples, and you must be certain he can forge through them with you."

Peggy smiled warmly at her, eyes watering a bit. "Steve is all that to me. He always has been."

"I know you best, Peggy Carter, and I believe you are all these things as well. Your children will be strong in character and body, formidable warriors and compassionate people of whatever nation they will reside in."

"I hadn't thought much about children before," Peggy murmured, taking a breath. "There hadn't been time for it. But perhaps now..."

"And lacking an extended family, you would likely have need of a crèche."

"Oh, dear, so much to consider," Peggy said, blinking.

"Yes, there is," Jokotade agreed. "And as I would tell my sister or cousin, there is time to consider such things, if you wish them. Given your status in our country—"

"Status?"

"Our King honors you in ways only given to those of high status in the court and tribal societies. So if you are of sufficient ranking, there are certain accommodations that will be given, as well as sufficient help."

"We certainly didn't come here with the intention of being declared dukes and duchesses!"

"Which is why, despite the inevitable rumors in the market and square, I continue to guard you as I would a member of the extended royal family. You and the others are not here to hang onto the court to gather riches, or steal the secret of our mines. Your intentions and wishes to help are true, but the execution of them was lacking."

"I think you know quite a bit more than you ever let on," Peggy told her wryly, plucking a blossom to present to her. "I like that. Can you help me with the details? Steve was always rather rubbish at that sort of thing."

Jokotade laughed and inclined her head. _"Kawa,_ it would be my honor."

Peggy's smile was bright and happy at being called Jokotade's friend. "Let's begin."

***

Natasha, Wanda, Peggy and Yemi met Laura Barton and the kids in one of the historic parks within the central district. Jokotade had suggested it as the wedding and reception site, and Peggy instantly fell in love with it. "It's beautiful," she murmured, eyes taking on a suspicious shine. "It reminds me of the park at my grandmother's home as well as the layout of the mansion where Angie and I lived in New York." She reached out and grasped Yemi's hand tightly in both of hers, watery smile in place. "This is exactly the place I would have married in if I had managed it in my own time."

Yemi smiled at her graciously. "I believe that is why Jokotade thought it would be appropriate."

Cooper looked around the park and for a moment reminded Peggy of Clint's thoughtful expression. "I guess it'll be a lot of folding chairs and tables. And putting together someplace to be the dancefloor."

"Unless we get to go barefoot?" Lila asked hopefully, giving Yemi a gap toothed grin.

The warrior tugged gently on one of Lila's braids. "It would not be my decision, little one. The bride and groom should make that decision."

 _"Please_ Aunt Peggy?" Lila crooned, bouncing over to Peggy and then tugging on her hand. "It would be so cool, and it's warm! We could all wear sandals, and then when we get to the grass, take 'em off and run around. It'll be fun!"

"Steve dancing barefoot?" Natasha snickered before Peggy could reply. "I think I like this idea. He needs to loosen up pretty badly."

"He has too much of a sense of responsibility," Laura said, shaking her head. "We all know that kind," she added. "But it's part of the charm, I think."

"Steve and I are far too much alike," Peggy agreed with a smile. "And I don't think there are too many other children that will be there, Lila," she told the girl apologetically.

Lila frowned. "Cooper and Amadeus spend all their free time together, and Nathaniel's annoying." She looked to her mother before she could say anything else. "Sorry, Mom, but he is. He chases me around and he takes my stuff and he gets my lip gloss all over the walls. I tell him all the time it's not the glitter glue from the art supplies, but he doesn't listen!"

"You know what I think?" Natasha asked, defusing the situation before Laura could, sweeping Lila up into her arm. "You and I should spend more time together. I think I've settled in enough, and I still train with Bucky, and your Dad and Uncle Steve. How 'bout you and I do something special while the boys talk engineering stuff?"

The girl's eyes shone. "You think we can do the code breaking?"

Peggy stared at Natasha while Laura smiled indulgently in thanks. "What have you been teaching that child, Natasha?" she asked incredulously.

"Old 40's numeric codes and Morse code. You know, useful stuff."

"I'm going to be a spy like Mom was and Dad and Aunt Nat are," Lila said proudly. "I'mma keep the world safe from the bad guys we're hiding from."

"This world is quite different from what I'm used to," Peggy said, shaking her head. "But I'm sure if you're going to keep it safe, it's in good hands."

Beaming, Lila pushed out of Natasha's embrace and then took off to look at the gardens, dragging her mother along. "Eight years old and already wanting to save the world," Peggy mused, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I was like that at her age, too. I suppose some things are eternal, no matter what the age."

Natasha grinned at her. "See? You'll do just fine in this era."

***

The wedding itself was a blur of music and well wishes; the Western styled ceremony was performed by T'Challa himself, which no one had expected. Various white and red Wakandan flowers had been arranged throughout the space set aside for the wedding. Seats were more than just folding chairs and card tables, and it was open to the public as well. The people were respectful of the royal guests, dignitaries and dora milaje standing watch. Most didn't even gawk at their King and these foreign dignitaries in the public space, but looked on them with awe and reverence. T'Challa even made mention of the people in the service, stating that Steve Rogers and Margaret Carter welcomed the gods of multiple faiths and the people of different lands and times to witness their union. If anyone thought it was odd to have bare feet along with fancy dresses or suits, no one said a thing. 

Bucky awkwardly approached Natasha during the reception, thrusting a red rose at her. "Here," he said, voice clipped. "For you."

She took it and gave him a smile. "Comfortable with the idea of being awake, then?"

"We're working on the triggers. Getting them out."

"How?" she asked, curious. "Deprogramming is such a tricky thing."

"меньше знаешь," he murmured, shaking his head. "I don't... You wouldn't do anything. I know that. But..."

"It pays to be careful," Natasha acknowledged, a sad edge to her smile.

"Yeah. It does. I can't... I have to be vigilant. I can't be the Winter Soldier. Don't want to be," he corrected. "I have those memories, and I can't stop them from coming."

"You have to own them, and find a way to overcome them," she agreed. "It doesn't necessarily make it hurt less, but the accounting gives purpose. _Choice."_ She held the rose out to him, a warmer edge to her smile. "Help me put it in my hair?"

"The thorns will snag."

Natasha's smile widened. "All the best roses have thorns. I'm not afraid of something sharp."

Bucky blinked at her, as if he was catching an undercurrent to her words. "Oh. If I am?" he asked, gently working the rose into the elaborate braids and curls in her hair.

"Sleep on it. See if it still scares you in the morning."

"Somehow, I don't think it'll be that easy," he replied softly, hands dropping from her side.

"Fear keeps you sharp. But you can't let it rule you, either." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "If I'm not afraid, maybe you shouldn't be." Stepping back, she flashed him an enigmatic smile. "крепче спишь."

He watched as she went to the Barton children, seated with Helen and Amadeus Cho. Clint and Laura were dancing in the area cleared to be the dance floor, faces alight with happiness. Steve and Peggy had the same look at each other, the same shining delight in sharing the same space again. They'd always only had eyes for each other. He remembered that.

Natasha danced easily with Cooper Barton, surprising Bucky with how easily she smiled at the boy. She took a turn with Amadeus Cho as well, though the two seemed to be discussing something serious rather than simply enjoying the dancing as Cooper had. He was so absorbed watching the others having a good time that he didn't notice T'Challa sliding into place beside him where he stood. He didn't visibly startle when he realized it, but nodded at the sovereign giving him a pointed glance. "You move like a predator," Bucky commented.

"Do you still see yourself as prey or a rabid beast?"

Startled by the bold question, Bucky shook his head. "Not sure how I see myself. Not the Winter Soldier, in any case."

"Then your time here has been well spent. As I'm sure theirs is," T'Challa said, looking toward Steve and Peggy. "There has been grief enough. Pain and vengeance consumes all it touches if you let it. So does regret."

"There's a lot to make up for," Bucky murmured softly. "If I even can."

"If you think you cannot, you never will," T'Challa told him. "There are legacies to live up to, and it is a great shadow to walk behind them." He paused thoughtfully. "History will decide if we are wrong or made poor choices. But if you don't even try, you will never succeed."

"It's not that easy," Bucky sighed.

"Nothing worthwhile ever is." T'Challa gave him a formal nod. "But I am giving you time and a place to heal and discover your true nature, and the path you must take to get there. I am sure that the spirits will guide you."

"How do you know if you do the right thing?" Bucky murmured, looking at the king with a plaintive expression. "Sometimes I don't even trust myself."

T'Challa paused. "You train with some of our fine warriors. Ask them if you are trustworthy."

"Steve and Peg say that I am." He paused. "The dora milaje don't hate me, so I guess they trust me not to do something stupid."

"Do you not trust them in their judgments?"

"Most of the time. Sometimes I'm not sure they're able to be impartial judges."

"Perhaps. They certainly have their sentimentality."

"Exactly."

"It makes them human," T'Challa said, looking over the festivities. "And your doubt and guilt, no matter how painful, also makes you human. You are not the machine others wished you to be. None here would force you into that position. You have not harmed any of the dora milaje, even given opportunity to do so. You have _chosen_ to be the man that Captain Rogers and Agent Carter remember you to be." He turned back to look at Bucky's surprised and uncertain features. "And most importantly, perhaps, _I_ don't feel you are a danger to my country. I would hunt you down if I thought you would be. My people are my first priority, not you, not your feelings, not your friends. But you do not endanger my country or my people, and the fact that you care tells me about the man you had been."

"Thank you," Bucky murmured.

"We are all the sum of our parts, the product of our histories. We cannot forget our history, but we cannot let it rule our future, either."

"Hard to do."

"True. But worth the effort." T'Challa paused. "Dr. Yelba told me you made great strides working with her. You are even beginning to work at the programming, and she is hopeful that it will be successful. She would not lie about your progress."

Bucky blew out a breath. "Hard to think about it sometimes."

"Don't dwell on the past. Remember it, but don't let it rule who you are and what you can become." He clapped a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "And this is a wedding. Smile. Enjoy the time with your friends before their honeymoon."

"I can try."

T'Challa nodded, then moved to a cluster of Wakandan people that looked rather important, even if Bucky didn't recognize them. He did his best to move through the crowds, but was so intent on keeping his head down that he didn't realize Steve had been looking for him. 

"Buck, wait up!"

Startled, Bucky looked around. "Where's Peggy? Why isn't she with you?"

"Talking with Lila for a bit. Cute kid, you know? I think it's giving her ideas."

"Jesus Christ," Bucky said in amazement. "Both of you charge ahead without thinking. Your poor kid will run into traffic without thinking twice."

Steve laughed, not offended in the slightest. "All to rescue a kitten, I'm sure," he agreed.

Bucky smiled at him, a little wistfully. "I'm happy for you, Steve. You deserve something nice. Something good."

"I don't do idle very well. Peggy doesn't either. I don't think any of us do, really. The house, the picket fence, the quiet..." He shook his head. "It doesn't feel right. I don't think I could actually settle down and have a quiet life in the suburbs."

"So then what?"

"Eventually, I'll have to go back out into the world. I still believe in what we did. That saving others that can't save themselves is the right thing to do. I won't let a politician tell me who I can or can't rescue. I can't stand aside if someone needs help."

"It's what got us into this mess," Bucky said ruefully, shaking his head.

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, same as he always used to do in the war. "You don't have to come with me and Peggy when it happens," he said earnestly. "I would never ask it of you, you know. There's work enough for you to do."

Suddenly, Bucky felt a fierce stab of pride in his chest. He realized what the others had given up to help him, to live up to their ideals. They sacrificed so much so that he wouldn't be tortured again or used against his will. He hadn't asked them to, but it was _their_ choice, and it was their way of helping him when he hadn't been able to help himself.

He could do the same.

"I told you before," Bucky said slowly. "That punk kid from Brooklyn that could never run from a dumbass fight? I'm following him." He grinned in response to Steve's slow smile. "I'm always walking after you, Steve. Don't you forget it, even if I do."

"I'll make sure you never forget," Steve promised.

"Go and rescue Peggy from scheming little girls and dance."

"How about you?"

Bucky gave him a sly smile. "I might actually have prospects. _Choices._ It's kind of exciting to see where things go."

Steve grinned at him and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Definitely exciting."

Peggy actually walked up to them both and put her arms around them as well. "I'm joining this love fest, boys." Her voice was strong and fond. "I'm so pleased we've all found each other." She smiled, her eyes suspiciously moist.

They were all sure that this was only the beginning, and they would help each other discover what the future had in store.

The End


End file.
